


Hands of Fate

by sapphyre_myst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 133,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphyre_myst/pseuds/sapphyre_myst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a small town's death rate suddenly jumps, Sam and Dean take what they think is their standard job. But when they come face to face with the creatures behind it all, things take a turn. Now the problem for the boys is how do you stop deaths from happening when you can't stop what's behind them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A beautiful day in a sleepy little town. Stores lined the main street and the normal day-to-day routine played out beneath a near-cloudless sky. The people went about their business as they normally did, without a care, as life played out around them. Cars came and went along the streets, children played in the town park while parents kept a watchful eye; all the mundane routines of a sleepy little town.

This was how it always played out for the trio seated outside the small coffee house. They would watch the people pass by without a word to each other, occasionally exchange glances, and then wait for the next passerby. And though they sat in a location that would surely get them noticed, no one looked their way. It was as if they were invisible to everyone in town.

The three women weren’t exactly the kind to go unnoticed in a small town such as Oak Ridge, though that definitely seemed the case. While their clothing wasn’t out of the ordinary and they did very little to draw public attention, they had, from time to time, caused a double take from the occasional person. A quick glimpse out of the corner of an eye was all it took; three nearly identical women there one moment, then gone the next. A disappearing act would make anyone double-take, let alone one by triplets in the time it took to blink an eye. And though triplets weren’t unheard of, it was unusual to see a set each with different-colored hair.

There was no mistaking how eerily similar they looked to one another. Each one was slender with a sculpted quality about her, their pale skin and piercing blue eyes giving each an almost ethereal quality. For the similarities between them, one thing made each stand out from the next. Their faces, their mannerisms, even their clothes were indistinguishable from the next save for their hair: one had blonde, one had black, and the last had white. They may have worn it in the same up-swept style, but if it hadn’t been for that single trait, no one could have told any one of them from the others.

The three watched the people and cars pass by from their table, not a word spoken between any of them. Their eyes scanned the faces of each man, woman, and child that passed, as if looking for something only they could see. Everyone that walked by got the same scrutiny, only to have the three look away and move to the next.

The blonde shifted in her seat as the black-haired woman zeroed in on a middle-aged man walking their way, the white-haired sister taking a sip of the tea in front of her. Nothing was said as the man drew closer to the trio, the blonde reaching out as he passed. As her hand pulled back, a single thread sat between her slender fingers.

Her dark-haired companion eyed the thread as it ran from her sister’s fingers to the man still walking away, a smile on her lips. She closed her eyes and grabbed the gossamer line as he stopped at the corner nearby. Her smile grew as she rolled the line between her thumb and index finger, pulling it taut. When her eyes opened there was an unsettling gleam present, a black mark sitting where her fingers had been.

The white-haired woman sat her cup down and watched the man wait for his signal before she took hold of the thread. Her fingers skimmed the line as he stepped off the curb, giving the black mark a quick pinch. Without a second thought she returned to her tea.

The thread snapped at the mark as he left the sidewalk, instantly disappearing into his shoulder. It was half a heartbeat, a blink of an eye. The thread had no sooner vanished as a car plowed into the man and sent his body flying. The sickening sound he made and the screeching of brakes heralded the coming chaos as the peaceful day was torn asunder.

People rushed to help as shocked voices rang out, the three at the table remaining seated as those around them ran past. The gleam was still in the black-haired woman’s eyes as she watched the scene play out before them. Her companions said nothing as they sat on either side of her, the blonde hanging her head as her white-haired sister stared into her teacup.

With the fast-approaching sound of sirens, two of the three vanished. The blonde was too busy studying the crowd to even care that the others were gone. Her eyes moved from face to stunned face as a few people moved to help the man.

She knew their efforts were in vain, but still they tried. Nothing they did could help him at all but the effort was commendable. It was just too late for him; when fate chose your time, nothing could stop it.

Her eyes shifted as the police and rescue arrived, a heavy sigh escaping her. A final look at the chaos pulled little more from her than a shake of the head before she too vanished into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

The rumble of the engine could be heard before the black ’67 Impala came into view. It was hard to miss, cutting across the quiet countryside with the faint strains of AC/DC following behind. It was definitely enough of an attention-grabber.

Dean Winchester kept time to the music as he drove, his hands tapping out the rhythm of the song against the steering wheel. Beside him, his brother Sam sat going through a handful of newspaper articles, just as he normally did when they traveled. It was actually standard Winchester operating procedure that while Dean drove, Sam researched their next job. This really wasn’t any different from all the other times.

He glanced away from the road as Sam flipped through the pages in his lap, turning down the radio. “Ya know, Sammy, you’ve been poring over those newspaper reports since we left Colorado. Are they really that interesting or did you find something?” He let out a small chuckle as he flashed his cocky grin. “Course knowing you, it’s just light reading.”

“I think I found something. Have you ever heard of a town’s accident rate jumping 200 percent in 3 months?” Sam replied.

Dean’s brow furrowed slightly as he thought. “Not unless they’ve been having a drunken keg party for 3 months.”

Sam sorted through the pages before him, pulling out an article. “About 3 months ago, a man named Phillip Byron died of accidental causes in a town called Oak Ridge, Ohio.”

“So? People die from accidents all the time, Sam,” Dean commented.

“Witnesses say he tripped and fell in front of the uniform delivery truck that crushed his skull,” Sam stated.

Dean cringed as he watched the road ahead. “Not exactly how I would want to go.”

“Since then there have been at least 19 other accident-related deaths, ranging from electrocution to choking. One man was even killed by an animal attack.” Sam looked toward his brother, shrugging. “These can’t be just coincidence.”

Dean’s head cocked slightly as Sam spoke. “Animal attack?”

“Yeah. A local man was attacked by his pet bird. He broke his neck falling downstairs,” Sam answered.

“I guess Polly really wanted that cracker.”

Sam watched the road for a moment before he looked toward Dean. “There’s something else. A few of these accidents were covered by the local newspaper, photographer and all. A couple of the photos showed some strange bystanders in the background.”

“Strange how?”

Sam’s fingers leafed through the articles as he looked for the photos. “Triplet strange.”

A smile crossed Dean’s face as the road stretched out before them. “Triplets aren’t all bad, Sam. Especially if all three are eager to please.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that, Dean,” Sam said flatly.

The look on his face was classic Dean as he shot his brother a grin. “Oh come on, Sammy. Live a little.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. This was another ‘normal’ part of the Winchester routine, one he knew so well that it wasn’t even a surprise anymore. In fact, if Dean didn’t make comments, Sam would think he was sick.

“As I was saying, a couple of the photos showed a strange set of triplets in the background. They looked out of place. One photo showed little girls, one showed old women. Somehow I don’t think the odds of two sets of triplets in the same town are very high.” He pulled out a color photo, examining the background. “Then there’s the whole appearance thing. Identical except for their hair.”

Dean’s eyes shifted toward his brother for a moment. “Their hair?”

Sam nodded. “Each one has a different hair color.”

Dean raised an eyebrow as he mulled Sam’s words over. “Maybe shapeshifters.”

Sam didn’t answer as he took a close look at the three girls in the photo. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking at. Not one idea or answer seemed to pop into his head about the three.

~*~

The town didn’t look like a hotbed of supernatural activity. It didn’t look like a hotbed of anything really. At first glance, it just looked like any other small town.

Main Street was lined with a number of storefronts that looked more Mayberry than Amityville Horror; the older buildings with the newer businesses added even more to the Mayberry feel. The courthouse at the center of town appeared to be the tallest of them all with its old clock tower dwarfing the smaller two-story shops nearby. The square across from the courthouse doubled as a small park, probably the small community’s attempt decades ago to bring new life into the town center. Further out from the heart of town was where the newer buildings got a foothold, close enough to the hub not to overshadow the older buildings while still getting traffic. The houses that could be seen on the side streets weren’t big or flashy affairs, just single or two-story homes that fit the atmosphere of the place.

“So this is where they’re all dying off?” Dean muttered as he looked out the windshield.

The pair had stopped at the town’s small gas station after making a quick pass through downtown. From their spot at the pumps, they could still see a small bit of the area they had driven past in their cursory reconnaissance, getting a glimpse of some of the daily routine.

Sam nodded. “This is it.”

Motioning down the street, Dean glanced over at his brother. “How many people are we talking here? I mean, I know it’s enough to get this place a stoplight 'cause, oh look, there it is, but how many people in this place, Sam?”

“According to the last census records they were just shy of fifteen hundred people.” He gave a small shrug, his eyes scanning the scenery. “Judging from the shops we passed, they’re probably closer to nineteen now.”

Dean gave a small nod as he sat back. “So they have a small police force. A crime wave here is probably Aunt Bea jay-walking.”

Sam watched a truck pass by as Dean pulled out his wallet. “Shouldn’t be hard dealing with the local cops. And with the town’s size, might make finding whatever these things are easier.”

“Nineteen hundred people and three things that keep killing them off. Yeah, Sammy, this is gonna be easy.” Dean sighed as he opened the door and stepped out, bending slightly to look back at his brother. “See if you can find us a motel while I fill the tank.”

Sam took one last look down the street, pulling out his cell phone and a notepad. “Heard that one before.”

His eyes moved from the street as a car drove past, unaware of the pair of blue eyes that watched him.


	3. Chapter 3

Insurance agents were the most expected faces in times of loss. They were probably the most common sight anyone in town could see lately given the rise in body count. No one would really question yet another pair of insurance agents showing up. Moreover, while Dean hadn’t been too thrilled about having to wear the suits again, it had to be done.

The pair gave the house a once-over as they sat in the Impala, Dean finally turning to his brother. “So this is the bird guy’s house?”

Sam nodded, glancing at the house number. “Mr. and Mrs. David Johnston.”

“Did you find anything on him?” Dean questioned.

“He was a member of the town council and the town’s lawyer. Couldn’t find anything that raised any red flags when I looked.” Sam leveled his gaze on Dean as he shook his head slightly. “Not even a parking ticket.”

“You said he was a lawyer.”

“Already thought of that.” Sam opened the glove box, pulling out some papers. “He practiced family law mostly. Wills and trusts seemed to be the bulk of his practice, no major cases that I could find. Looked like the only one who had a problem with him was the bird.”

Dean sighed as he grabbed the cigar box from the glove compartment. “This sounds more like an animal control issue. Like those ‘when house pets attack’ shows.”

“That’s what I thought until I found this,” Sam commented. He pulled out a newspaper clipping, pointing at the picture of the street. “Didn’t seem like an animal control issue then.”

Dean scanned the photo, spotting the trio in the picture.

It was black and white but they could still be spotted. As others in the photo stood in the background while the town’s police force worked, the noticeable trio stood closer than any others probably should have been. The three looked like schoolchildren as they stood beside a large oak, each one clad in what looked like a prep school uniform. And while the few bystanders were watching the action, the children’s eyes looked locked on the home.

“They were at a bird attack?” Dean questioned.

Sam nodded, pointing out the window. “About 50 feet from the Johnstons’ front door; next to that tree.”

“Inside a police cordon. Don’t think it could have been ‘take your creepy children to work day,’ huh?” Dean commented with a grin.

The door creaked open as Sam got out, Dean not far behind. “Doubt it.”

There was a pause as Dean examined the street outside the Johnstons’ home. It was hard to tell what was going through his head, but Sam knew it was probably along the same lines as his own thoughts. It was like that with every job.

“What type of creature hunts in a trio? If you can call this hunting.”

Sam had wondered the same thing himself while pouring over the death notices and newspaper clippings.

There was no pattern to any of it; no noticeable link in the victims that he could seem to find. The only link was the women, really. They were present at each scene in some form, watching intently from a distance. Their appearance marked the jump in the town’s mortality rate, but the reason for their presence wasn’t clear.

“This has to be the most confusing job we’ve ever been on, Sammy.” Dean moved to join his brother on the sidewalk, nodding toward the house. “Now let’s go see what Tweety’s beef was.”

~*~

When you watch the world, you tend to learn things most wouldn’t dream of. When you watch the world for centuries upon centuries, your knowledge becomes almost limitless. You start to see how routine some behaviors are for some groups, even carrying over from one member to the next. After a long enough time, one even begins to notice the hints of predictability with some.

Hunters were one of the most routine groups, though hardly predictable. ‘Prepared’ would probably best describe them. They relied on as much information as they could gather before they went in guns drawn and blazing, the more experienced usually being the quicker to act in some situations. Not all of them seemed to follow a straight moral compass, but that could be said about all groups and not just Hunters.

But watching the pair also drove home a more important point: they were dangerous. All the questions were leading up to one not so pretty and usually messy outcome. That was something that could not be easily overlooked. It was always and would always be at the back of her mind as long as they were around.

~*~

The Fox Run Motel was a small arrangement of private cabins just outside Oak Ridge, greeting wary travelers with the florescent glow of its vacancy sign. It was far enough from the main road to be a peaceful rest stop yet close enough not to seem cut off from everything. To a normal tourist, it was a nice little stop.

Hunter-wise, the motel was a perfect base. The cabin was good-sized for the price: two beds, a small kitchen with appliances, living room large enough to comfortably set up what was needed without being in the way. It was far enough from the road that a car could be easily hidden from view if needed, hiding not only the vehicle but anything removed from it.

And Sam had to admit it was much better than some other places they had been.

He pored over the books and web pages in front of him as he sat in the living room, switching between electronic and printed word. The couch had become an impromptu desk once the books began to pile up, the pages of notes and ‘maybes’ covering nearly every inch of available cushion space. Every photo he had found of the trio in question sat beside his laptop on the coffee table as reference, but so far, his searching hadn’t turned up any matches.

With a sigh, his eyes scanned the mass of books and papers that seemed to be of little help as he ran a hand over his mouth. He had been staring at the pages since they had returned empty-handed from talking to Mrs. Johnston but hadn’t found much. He exhausted practically every resource he could find, emptying the books he kept in the trunk for even a small hint of what they were dealing with. Online searches proved not nearly as fruitless as the books had been but still hadn’t given him anything more than some vague possibilities. Not even his father’s journal cast light on their current hunt.

It was starting to seem like an endless circle he was stuck in with all this. One possibility led to another, that pointed to another, yet none of them really fit what they already knew. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Dean was having as much trouble as he was.

Sam rolled his head as he pushed himself up from the couch, the kink in his back an unmistakable sign he’d been at the books too long. He ran a hand through his hair as he headed for the door to get some air. Maybe fresh air would help clear his thoughts and make things a little easier to sort through.

The air was warm as he stepped outside, the sky above beginning to turn a brilliant crimson. He could hear the sounds of the approaching night as he took a few steps into the parking lot. It was a noise he hadn’t really paid attention to before but here and now it wasn’t easy to overlook. There wasn’t anything here to drown it out like other places.

He tucked his hands in his pockets as he looked around at their temporary surroundings.

It was easy to see why the town was called Oak Ridge. The town was surrounded by trees on nearly every side; it seemed to disappear into them in some places. The town was as country as any job of theirs before. He was sure Dean didn’t like that fact.

Sam popped his neck and turned to go back in, becoming aware of the feeling of being watched.

His attention turned back to the parking lot briefly as he tried to shake the sensation that someone, or most likely something, was watching him. He couldn’t see anyone else in the lot; no one was walking toward another cabin or even sitting outside. It was just him and the local wildlife.

He looked toward the trees surrounding the motel as his ears began to pick up the all-too-familiar rumble drawing near, spotting the source of his unease sitting on a branch across the parking lot.

An hawk probably wasn’t uncommon given their location, but somehow Sam doubted there were many in the area with golden-colored feathers. In fact, the color alone was more red flag than natural oddity. It sat about forty feet from their door, remaining on its perch even as Sam took a few steps toward it.

Others wouldn’t have given a second thought to seeing an hawk, even if it was only forty feet away, but Sam wasn’t like other people. And while nature wasn’t really the topic on which he was most knowledgeable, he knew enough when it came down to it; animals went hand in hand with some of the symbolism he and Dean dealt with almost daily. If anything, his visitor made the uneasy feeling in the back of his mind a little more tangible.

The bird cocked its head as the rumble of the Impala rounded the corner, its eyes shifting slightly.

Sam watched as the bird finally flew off just as Dean pulled up, hearing the beat of its wings. Even with the bird gone, the uneasy feeling that had crept up inside him still didn’t ease up.

“How’s the research going?” Dean questioned out the driver’s window.

“Slow,” Sam muttered. He glanced back toward where the hawk had been, half expecting to see it watching him again. “How did it go at the paper?”

Dean grabbed a folder from the front seat, handing it over as he slid out of the car. “Their archive assistant was very helpful. Cute too.”

Sam began looking through the file as they headed inside. “You got her number, didn’t you?”

The smirk on Dean’s face was enough of an answer for his brother.

“Figures,” Sam sighed.

Dean made his way to the small kitchen, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. “That’s all the paper had on strange local deaths as far back as they’ve been in print. Historical society had about as much as the paper did.”

Sam took a seat back on the couch, leafing through the pages. “And nothing jumped out?”

“Some farmer fed his neighbor to his pigs in the 1800s, but that was it,” Dean commented.

Sam tossed the folder on to the coffee table, looking toward his brother. “So nothing in the town’s history can explain those three being here.”

“They seem to be recent additions,” Dean said. He contemplated his beer for a moment, giving a small shrug. “Whatever they are. You find anything?”

Sam shook his head, sitting back. “Only a lot of maybes.”

Dean’s eyes moved to the mass of books and papers, shaking his head. “Maybes aren’t exactly helpful.”

“I’ve looked at everything I can think of, even Dad’s journal. Not one mention of any creatures that travel or hunt in packs of three, and no mention of any triplets anywhere in lore who herald death. Nothing. Vampires, werewolves, strega… these three fit pieces of each but not enough to be any of them,” Sam explained.

Dean made his way to a nearby chair, having a seat. “So that puts us back to square one on the terrible trio.”

“They don’t even fit the definition of shapeshifter.” Sam looked at the papers in front of him as he shook his head. “I don’t even know where to look any more.”

There was a long pause between the pair, Dean taking a healthy drag off his beer bottle. “Let’s just agree we’re looking for some weird sisters and leave it at that for now.”

Sam let out a heavy sigh and laid his head against the back of the couch. He couldn’t argue with Dean’s suggestion considering they hadn’t found much of anything. The prospect of starting all over again wasn’t appealing, but there wasn’t really another option that he could see.

“We can dig around some more, see if we can find any other clues as to what these things are,” Dean added.

“You can get more numbers,” Sam muttered.

Dean smiled as he raised his bottle, getting comfortable. “That’s just one of the perks, Sammy.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean glanced through the police reports between bites of omelet, stopping briefly to grab a drink of coffee.

This was the sixth time he had gone over the papers, combing over each word for something out of the ordinary. Six times he read through these and six times nothing jumped out. They were just accident reports, plain and simple.

“As riveting as all this is, Sammy, this isn’t exactly my idea of morning reading,” he muttered, closing the file.

Across the table, Sam’s pancakes had barely been touched. He was glued to the screen of the laptop, just as he had been since the waitress took their order. He didn’t even look up when Dean spoke.

Dean cleared his throat as Sam tapped a couple of keys, setting his fork down. “Sam, there’s a farmer two tables over giving you the eye.”

“Funny, Dean,” Sam muttered.

“You have been glued to that computer since we got here. Barely touched your breakfast.” Dean picked up his fork again, stabbing at his hash browns. “This is becoming an unhealthy obsession.”

Sam looked up from the laptop, watching Dean shove a forkful of hash browns in his mouth. “These things are just bugging me.”

“Like I said last night, we can look around and see if we can find anything else out. We’ll figure it out, track it down, and kill it.” Dean motioned toward the laptop with his fork. “You keep going at it like that, your head will explode.”

Sam shut the computer and looked at his pancakes, reaching for his coffee. “Already feels like it's going to explode.”

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Dean mumbled through the food in his mouth.

“Thanks for the concern.” Sam cut up his pancakes, pushing a piece around his syrup-coated plate. “I may call Bobby and see if he has any ideas. He may know something we don’t.”

Dean nodded, giving the waitress who refilled his coffee a smile. “He might. He’s been doing this a lot longer than we have.”

Sam ate in silence for a moment, glancing out the diner’s window.

“Sam, stop it,” Dean ordered.

“Stop what?”

Dean shot his younger brother a look of annoyance as he took a drink of coffee. “Stop going over things in your head like the walking encyclopedia of weird you are.”

Sam huffed and stabbed at his plate, glaring at the man across from him. “Dean.”

“You over-think things, Sammy. We just started this case and already you’re starting to over-think it.” He finished off his last piece of toast, motioning around the diner. “Enjoy the atmosphere. Take in the scenery. Granted there ain’t much of it, but still.”

“Dean, I can think about stuff other than the case,” Sam commented.

“Okay. Prove it,” Dean countered.

“Prove it?” The look Sam gave his brother was one he had seen probably a million times before. “How do you expect me to prove it, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “What were you thinking about?”

Sam sighed as Dean shoved a large piece of omelet in his mouth. “A bird.”

Dean’s brow furrowed at the answer, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re weird. A bird?”

“You asked.” His tone was just this side of annoyed as a pissy look began creeping across his face. “So don’t start with the whole weird crap.”

Dean threw his hands up, glancing out the window. “Fine.”

The sounds of the diner worked into their lull as Dean’s gaze headed to the power company truck parked down the street.

He hadn’t noticed it before, nor had he seen the crew begin work on the power lines running to the stoplight. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary to see a power crew at work on a street and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it before. Maybe it was the town’s weird death rate that made the mundane seem slightly more noteworthy, but for some reason a power crew at work seemed riveting to watch. Orange cones, cherry picker, and florescent safety vests; for some reason it was the most interesting thing Dean had seen.

Sam’s brow knit as he looked out the window. “Dean?”

“Just watching Mayberry’s daily routine,” Dean commented with a nod.

Sam turned just enough in his seat to see the work crew. “You’re watching a work crew? And you call me weird.”

Dean looked at the younger man across from him calmly. “That’s the scenery I’m talking about, Sam. Get your nose out of the books before you blow a fuse in that head of yours. It may not be the first thing to pop into your head under ‘relaxing,’ but it beats looking up every single thing you can think of.”

Sam shook his head as he returned to his breakfast.

“A work crew is a good distraction, Sammy,” Dean contended.

“If you say so,” Sam muttered.

Dean looked back out the window, taking in more of the local scenery. “Mayberry daily life. Kids playing in a park, people walking around doing whatever they’re doing. It’s better than staring at those books and web pages.”

Sam let his eyes move back to the window as he drank the last bit of his coffee, searching the scene.

“Take a break.” Dean pointed out the window, giving him a smile. “We can go to the park.”

Sam answered his brother with a huff.

“It won’t be all bad. You can play on the swings,” Dean grinned.

“Now you’re just being a jerk.”

Dean laughed as he finished off his breakfast, sitting back. He loved annoying his brother with smartass comments, even over breakfast. This was no different from any other day.

His eyes moved back to the street as Sam finished his meal.

It was Mayberry in 3-D. People walked along the sidewalk and into nearby shops on some unknown errands while others came out with bags of their own. The corner grocery seemed to do pretty good business, and so did the coffee shop down the block. The bookstore across from the park had a leisurely pace about it as some wannabe emo clerk set out a sale board. The park’s little playground had a handful of kids and parents, most of the children pre-school age. It was a living Norman Rockwell painting.

Sam finished his pancakes, reaching for his wallet. “You can enjoy the scenery all you want, Dean. I just want to figure out what these things are.”

Dean shook his head, downing the last of his coffee. “You don’t know the meaning of the word 'relax,' do you?”

Sam pulled some money from his wallet as he got up with the check.

Dean made his way outside while Sam paid, looking down the street at the work crew.

The street had been blocked off as they raised the bucket of the cherry picker toward the stoplight. A flagman stood nearby to direct any passing traffic the tiny burg might get while the work was done overhead, a pair of workers busy on the corner power post. After a couple of minutes, the stoplight went dead and the crew began work.

“Thinking of a side job on a county work crew?” Sam’s voice pulled him from his people-watching as his brother joined him. “Doesn’t exactly seem your style, Dean.”

He shrugged and started heading down the sidewalk. “I’d look good doin’ it.”

Sam adjusted the leather bag on his shoulder, looking around. “A nine-to-five job appeals to you, and I’m the weird one.”

“Absolutely. You’re always gonna be the weird one, Sammy.” Dean glanced toward a young woman putting up a sign in a florist window, giving her his trademark smile. “So what is that weirdo brain of yours gonna do instead of relaxing?”

“I’ve exhausted all my normal research tactics and every book we have with us. Only other options are call Bobby, see if we can find any clues around here, and see if maybe there is a book or something in the town’s library I can find.”

“This is why you never get laid.”

“Funny, Dean.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging as he looked at the town. “We’ve made a list of every possible creature these three could be and we’ve crossed them off. So maybe we missed something somewhere.”

“We’ve talked to all the witnesses we could find, looked into this place’s history, and found nothing, Sam.” Dean fished his keys from his pocket as they neared the car.

“We’re back to square one. Not like we haven’t had to do it before,” Sam commented.

Dean paused as they reached the Impala, letting out a heavy sigh. “I feel a headache coming on.”

Sam looked out across the town square, resting his arms on the roof of the car. “I’ll see what I can come up with and give Bobby a call; see if he can help figure any of this out.”

“I still say this place is a little too white bread for anything supernatural. Especially this stuff,” Dean commented.

Sam watched the activity in the square for a moment, trying to figure out where exactly to start. A part of him seriously thought about taking Dean’s advice and relaxing, but he wouldn’t. The part of him that this job was nagging at wouldn’t let him relax; it would eat at him until the answers he was looking for were found, no matter how hard he tried to follow his brother’s advice.

His hand drifted to the door as he glanced toward the work crew at the light, freezing. “Dean.”

The older man’s eyes moved toward his brother, the familiar squeak of the door breaking the peace. “What?”

All Sam could do was nod toward the light as he swallowed, his eyes locked and his body stiffening.

Dean turned toward where his brother was looking as an uneasy feeling passed over him. He had seen his brother tense like that before, had heard the same clipped tone in his voice before, and knew from experience that it was never a good sign. It was more “grab the salt gun” than anything.

He didn’t need to be told where to look or even what he was looking for, the expression on Sam’s face telling him more than enough. His eyes locked on the flash of three school uniforms behind the orange vests as he turned his head. “Son of a bitch.”

The trio was an eerie sight standing on the sidewalk, all three dressed in school uniforms. They seemed intent on watching the light crew work as people walked past without even looking at the triplets. They just didn't seem to be noticed by anyone.

The brothers raced across the street and began to head toward the corner, stopping once they stepped on the sidewalk.

"What the hell?" Dean's eyes scanned the square as confusion clouded his face. "Where'd they go?"

Sam shook his head as he stood beside his brother, checking the other side of the street. "I don't know."

Dean threw his hands up in frustration, turning to Sam. "We did just see the freaky little bitches, right?"

"Yeah." Sam pointed toward the corner, looking just as confused as his brother. "They were right there."

Dean huffed and scanned the square once more, growling under his breath. "I swear everything we hunt knows a damn disappearing act."

Sam looked toward the workers as he let his brother fume. He couldn't understand why they had been watching them as intently as they had seemed. His mind went back to all the research he had done as he tried to figure everything out.

"I hate this." Dean had the appearance of wanting to punch something as he spoke, an edge to his voice. "What were they doing here?"

Sam motioned toward the light with a shrug. "They seemed interested in the work on that."

"A street signal?" His eyebrow rose as he cocked his head slightly. "Again I say – what the hell?"

This had to be the most confusing job they had ever been on. The victims had no ties to one another, they were dealing with three creatures that they had no clue about, and there was no way of figuring out just who the next target would be. It was one big annoying guessing game.

Dean ran a hand over his short hair as he sighed heavily. "Son of a bitch."

"At least we know they're still here," Sam muttered.

"And interested in road work, apparently," Dean added. He shook his head in frustration, walking toward the curb. "This is the most frustrating job ever, Sammy."

Dean's foot had barely left the curb when they heard the unmistakable crack of electricity in the air. Instinct made both men turn toward the source as another crack filled the air, the stop signal sending a shower of sparks to the road below. Another ominous crack sent the work crew scattering and startled the pair who could only watch the unfolding scene.

The signal, the same one the trio had been so intently watching, practically exploded in a shower of sparks as its power line snapped, the metal and glass device crashing to the ground. The live wire swung in a wide arc toward the park as people scattered in all directions. The scene almost looked like a slow-motion movie as the sparking end wrapped around the ankle of a woman who hadn't been fortunate enough to get out of the way, the current coursing through her body.

Both men turned away as the woman was electrocuted, neither of them really wanting to see the outcome. They didn't have to look to know the current in the cable was surging through her, stopping her heart and sending her muscles into a series of uncontrolled spasms. They didn't need to see the woman's last moments to know what a senseless accident it was. They only turned back when they heard one of the workmen throw a switch in a nearby junction box.

The pair exchanged disheartening looks as the air erupted in a barrage of chaotic voices; orders to call 911, screams from horrified witnesses and the shocked voices of townspeople took the place of birdsong that had only been there a moment before. They briefly glanced toward the twisted body as the work crew moved to cover her up. It was staggering how quickly the day had turned so bad.

"We're killing these things, Sam." Dean's voice was a dangerous growl as he looked at his brother, pointing at the scene they just witnessed. "Whatever they are, this is the last place they'll ever set foot."

~*~

She hated this, hated how all of this was turning out. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The people dying shouldn't have been, at least not yet. This wasn't right. The blue eyes watched the humans work from the top of the jungle gym, a sad gleam in the deep pools. Things shouldn't be the way they were turning. The town wasn't meant for such chaos.

The silent watcher shook her head as the county coroner took care of the latest victim, her eyes moving to the street.

Past the shops and homes, past the common streets, there were two men plotting a plan of attack. Help from them wasn't an option at this point. They had seen what the sisters could do and chances were good that the only thing on their minds now was killing the trio.

Asking them was out of the question. If she wanted freedom for herself and her sisters, she'd have to do it herself. It was the only thing to do now the hunters had seen the latest job.

The little blonde girl sitting on top of the jungle gym shook her head as she climbed down, straightening her uniform once on the ground.

It wouldn't be easy, but she'd work out this problem herself. Avoiding the hunters was something she'd have to work around, but she'd still try to find a way out of their situation. Winchesters be damned; she'd find a way out of all this.

With one last look as the black county van pulled away, the girl vanished, leaving the playground empty.


	5. Chapter 5

The search for what was going on took on a new sense of urgency after the morning’s chaos, Sam and Dean returning briefly to their motel room to work out a plan of action.

When it came to finding out what the three women were, it had been agreed that they were pretty much at square one. Information-wise, they were in better condition; they had copies of reports and the interviews they had done earlier to go on, so they weren't completely in the dark. They knew about the victims, they knew about the incidents, but that was pretty much where they stood. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing at all.

The plan was simple: Dean would go find out what he could about the latest victim while Sam worked the research angle at the local library. Dean's prior visit to the historical society was a good start, but Sam was aiming for the archival records of not only the town but the county as a whole. It would also give him a chance to see if there was anything on the elusive trio.

The library was exactly as Sam had figured it would be for a town the size of Oak Ridge: small and quiet. They're weren't many there at that early hour aside from the two or three staff Sam had seen when he arrived, so finding a secluded corner of the stacks was easy enough. It was just a matter of looking through the books from there on out.

For the first hour it had been skimming old logbooks and histories, jotting down notes about the town and its sometimes sordid past, and looking for anything out of the ordinary. Three leather-bound newspaper archives later, he still wasn't any closer to finding a connection. It just came across as a normal town.

Sam closed the archive with a heavy, frustrated sigh as his eyes moved to the notebook peeking out from his computer bag.

He could feel the frustration grow just by looking at the dollar-store notebook, their notebook. Every maybe and possibility Sam had come up with or across, every 'close but not close enough,' sat in that flimsy covered spiral-bound, tucked between his laptop and his father's journal. He could find out anything about the town, but try as he might, the creatures in that notebook eluded him. He felt it was silently mocking him whenever he looked at it.

He pulled the wire-bound notebook from his bag as he grabbed his cell phone, scrolling down through the numbers until he found his target. He hit the call button, flipping the notebook open to one of the numerous clippings showing the three; staring at the photo of the young women. His pen tapped absently against the table as he looked at the faces, the phone line finally clicking to life.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Bobby. It's Sam," Sam greeted him.

The voice that had answered so gruffly softened slightly at the introduction. "Hey, boy. How you two been? It’s been a while."

Sam smiled as he twirled his pen between his fingers. "We're pretty good."

"Good to hear, son. Last I heard you two were out near Omaha working a poltergeist case."

"Yeah." Sam cringed at the mention of Omaha as the memory of being tossed into a dining-room wall returned along with the sharp ache in his ribs the action had caused. "That was a painfully interesting job."

Bobby chuckled over the line as Sam shrugged off the memory. "So what are you boys up to now?"

Sam's eyes moved to the list of maybes in the notebook as he set his pen down. "We're working a job in Ohio and could use a little help."

Bobby could be heard walking from one room to another over the line. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Have you ever come across anything that hunts in threes before, Bobby?" Sam questioned almost hesitantly.

There was a pause before Bobby's voice came back, a hint of confusion in the man's tone. "You mean like a pack?"

Sam sighed and pushed a hand back through his hair. "I'm not even sure if you could call it a pack. We haven't been able to figure out what these things are yet."

Bobby sounded almost fatherly as he spoke, but even over a phone line, Sam could tell the man was interested in what the boys had found. "Tell me about this job of yours."

It didn't take very long to fill Bobby in on the job and even less time to tell him about the three who seemed to be at the center of everything. He told the older hunter everything they knew about the mysterious trio, every maybe they seemed to fit yet not fit at the same time. Every disguise was laid out, from the schoolchildren the brothers had seen that morning to the old women Sam had spotted in newspaper photos. Even the "accidents" themselves were explained. Nothing was left out.

When he was done, Sam waited. He let the information he had given sink in and said nothing. After everything so far and the frustration both he and Dean were feeling, he was more than happy to simply wait.

"Let me see what I can find and get back to you," Bobby finally said. His tone was one Sam had heard before, both contemplative yet still untrustingly cautious. "In the meantime, don't go doing anything stupid like trying to catch these things. Between the two of us, someone is bound to find something."

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam felt oddly drained after explaining everything, catching it in his own voice as he spoke. "We really appreciate it."

"Sure thing, kid. I'll be in touch."

With the call disconnected, Sam pocketed his phone and sank back against the hard plastic of his chair.

His eyes scanned the pages of maybe lists and news photos, his mind working over the scene from just that morning as he added it to the ‘file’ with everything else. The new page, Jane Doe, brought the body count to 20 and did little more than add one more piece to an already confusing puzzle. He doubted it would become any clearer once Jane Doe had a real name.

Sam’s jaw set as he gathered up his papers and shoved the notebook in his bag, pushing away from the table.

The archives weren’t going anywhere, Dean was probably still laying on the charm at the coroner’s office, and Sam’s mind, as much as he hated it, was now stuck on them. He had time to kill and a nearly empty library at his disposal; there wasn’t a better time to look over Red Oak Public Library’s selection of occult books. If anything, it could at least get Sam’s mind off the trio for a moment or two.

With the size of the library it wouldn’t be hard tracking down the right area to start looking. Most places kept their selection of ‘metaphysical’ books in the same general location; tucked back in some far corner away from prying eyes. Whether it was to garner some amount of privacy for a curious patron or just keep them hidden from the more visited areas via the Dewey Decimal System, it wasn’t easy to tell. But whatever the reason, the somehow always ended up in the same locations. A quick look at the card catalog simply cemented that fact.

Sam scanned the stack markers as he made his way through the shelves looking for the books the library had. It wasn’t a surprise when he followed the numbers gleaned from the electronic catalog that led him past the world religions section and into the far back corner of the building. He could almost hear the cars outside pass by the further he went.

He paused halfway down the long metal shelf, running his fingers along the book spines as he checked the numbers against those on the slip of paper in his hand. He took a step as he looked along the row ahead of him, his brow knitting at the sight further down the aisle. Apparently the library wasn’t as empty as he'd thought.

Sitting quietly on the floor amid a handful of books pulled from a bottom shelf sat a young woman, head bowed as she read. Her back was to him as a slender hand moved to grab another book from the shelf, the waist-length blonde hair that fell down her back obscuring her features. She looked completely absorbed as she skimmed the books, tossing one aside as she grabbed for another. His eyes moved from the figure to the slowly growing piles of books as he drew closer, stopping to look at the titles. It wasn’t exactly light reading unless you were a hunter or an occult scholar. Grimoire Bestiae, Grimoire of Armadel; those may have been more modern retellings of older books, but they were not light reading and especially not speed reading subjects. Yet here was this woman clearing out each book from the shelf as if nothing was in it but blank pages.

His eyes moved back to the body seated on the floor, taking a long look at her.

Slender body dressed in faded jeans and a white tee shirt that didn’t look too out of the ordinary, straight blonde hair that shielded her face from view; that was all he could see. There were no marks on the pale skin, nothing noticeable that he could make out. And that was making him a little uneasy.

The woman sighed as she tossed the last book aside, the slight body moving to its feet in one graceful movement.

Sam swallowed as he watched her turn toward the shelves and a hauntingly familiar profile came into view. “You.”

The word had been barely breathed aloud but the young woman reacted as if it had been as loud as a shotgun blast.

The woman turned toward Sam, a startled pair of piercing blue eyes locking on his face. The face that had so eerily looked out from the newspaper clippings was now masked by a look of shock as the young woman stared up at the man she had only seen from a distance before. Her eyes remained on his face as she took a step backwards trying to distance herself from him.

“You.” The word fell from Sam’s lips once more as he matched her step, seeing a flash of uncertainty in the blue eyes.

Her movement was instant; faster than Sam knew possible for any human as she turned and ran.

Bobby’s advice against something stupid disappeared as Sam took off behind her, keeping the blonde hair in sight. The hunter instinct kept him on her as he rounded a shelf corner, brown eyes searching for a flash of blonde-haired woman ahead of him. No sooner had he rounded the corner behind her than she disappeared from sight.

He stood there searching for any indication of where she had gone before he moved back toward where she had been. The disappearing act had been just like at the streetlight, no trace of her left. But this time there was a difference; she had given a clue that hadn’t been left at the corner that morning.

They didn’t always travel in threes.


	6. Chapter 6

It was nearly 1 when Dean found Sam sitting at one of the library tables going through a couple of piles of books, pulling up a chair as he tugged at the tie around his neck. “Well, that was fun.”

Sam glanced up from the book he was searching, noticing the slightly annoyed look on Dean’s face. “Didn’t go well?”

“Oh, it was super.” The sarcasm in Dean’s voice was evident as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Between the autopsy and the place smelling like burnt flesh, it was just awesome. I don’t think I ever want to eat fried chicken again. Ever!”

Sam shook his head as he returned to the books in front of him. “What did you find out?”

“Well, the woman’s name is Catherine Weber. Lifelong resident, age 31, assistant manager at the local supermarket.” Dean pulled a small notebook from his pocket, flipping through the pages. “Cause of death was 'accidental electrocution.' They figure she took about 120,000 volts from that power line in a freak surge.”

Sam looked up from the books, his brow knitting. “A freak surge?”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re saying,” Dean nodded. He sat back with a shrug, pulling at the tie around his neck once more. “Freak power surge turned a low-voltage wire into a high-voltage one and fried her.”

“A low-voltage line is, what, less than 1000 volts?” Sam muttered, looking at his brother. “That’s some power surge if it can boost a standard line to 120 times its normal capacity.”

Dean looked at the books on the table, grabbing one and leafing through it. “Yeah, well, we both know it’s not a damn surge.”

Sam huffed slightly as he nodded, closing the book he was reading.

“Did you dig anything up?”

“Couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the county archives or the town paper before 3 months ago. History-wise the place is clean.” Sam paused as Dean tossed the book he was looking at on the table, his expression even as he rubbed at his neck. “I couldn’t find even a remote hint these things were here before now.”

Dean examined the small stacks of books on the table before he moved his focus on his brother. He motioned at the piles as an eyebrow rose, his lips pursing slightly before he spoke. “What’s with the New Age library, Sammy?”

He didn’t answer right away as he reached for the notebook in his bag, flipping through the pages of photos. “I saw one of them, Dean.”

The reply made Dean instantly sit up and take more of an interest in the here and now, the experience at the coroner’s office slipping from his mind. “They were here?”

“No. Not all three.” Sam pulled out a color clipping that showed the three as young women, his finger tapping over the blonde. “Just her.”

Dean examined the photo for a moment before he slid it back across the table. “What was she doing?”

“Looking through all these,” Sam replied, motioning toward the books.

Confusion clouded Dean’s face as he looked at the piles, his green eyes moving from title to title.

“She was sitting on the floor looking through every one of these books like she was searching for something.” He picked up one book that looked to be 600 pages, showing Dean its thickness. “She went through this one in under a minute.”

“The hell?” Dean shot Sam an odd look, cocking his head slightly. “What was she looking for?”

Sam simply answered with a shrug as he put the book down.

Dean closed his eyes as he brought a hand to his temple, sighing heavily. “So we’re still where we were before, but with more books.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds rather depressing, Dean,” Sam commented.

Dean huffed as he looked at the books in front of him. “It does, doesn’t it? Did you get hold of Bobby?”

Sam began to gather the books up as Dean grabbed the nearest one he could, taking a close look at it. “Yeah. Filled him in on all this and he said he’d see what he could find out.”

“He’s bound to have an answer in that massive library of his.” Dean carefully read over a page, nodding slowly to himself. “Whatever this chick is, she has interesting reading habits.”

Sam carried the books to a nearby cart and set them down, turning back to his brother. “I’ve been looking through those since she vanished.”

Dean continued to read as Sam cleared the table of books, propping his feet up on a nearby chair.

~*~

Peace was a fleeting concept.

The mind would relax only so much before the weight of the world would push its way back to the forefront. Each time even a glimpse of calm would appear the gravity of their current situation would reappear. No matter what was done, peace was always fleeting. It had become an uncomfortable fact of life lately.

Within the canopy of green, the pair of pale blue eyes lay contemplating this sad fact. Staring upward toward the sun-dappled ash leaves and the slight glimpses of blue above, it wasn’t difficult to see just how sad it all was. To be so close to freedom, yet bound into service against your purpose in the world: slavery of the worst kind.

The blonde sighed as her eyes closed, resting her hands on her stomach. The tree branch she lay on moved with the breeze that rustled the leaves around her and pulled a tiny smile from her lips. It was a familiar motion in an unfamiliar place.

Her eyes opened to watch the leaves dance above her, reaching a delicate hand toward the trembling greens.

This wasn’t their tree but it was close enough. It was tall and strong with boughs that could hold and shield them from prying eyes. It was far younger than their own, but it still felt comfortable in an uncomfortable world. It was a poignant reminder of what they had been taken from.

She sighed as a branch feet below her creaked a low protest, her time alone done.

“Where were you?”

“Out,” the blonde muttered. Her head turned so she could look at her white-haired visitor sitting beneath her. “Where were you?”

The white-haired young woman gave a small shrug as she ran her fingers along the bough she sat on. “Here.”

“Glad we got that out in the open.” The blonde closed her eyes as her head turned back, waving her sister off. “I feel so much better now.”

The white-haired woman looked up with a sigh as her sister lay above, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Verdandi had been in town watching the humans.”

Blue eyes opened to gaze up at the softly rustling leaves, the kind voice hiding the edge she felt inside. “We all know this isn’t right, sister.”

“We know.” The new voice caused both women to look higher into the tree as the black-haired woman appeared, her back to the tree trunk. “But it's our lot.”

“So sayeth the one who is taking too much enjoyment from all this.” The blonde sat up, wrapping a leg around her perch. “The more this goes on, the worse your ‘ideas’ are getting.”

The black-haired woman gave a small shrug as she leaned against the trunk. “What can I say? I like my job.”

“But do you like the circumstances?” the blonde questioned, thumbing at the iron ring around her neck. “Truthfully, Verdandi.”

The black-haired woman, Verdandi, sighed as she touched the ring that hung around her own neck, her eyes becoming cold. “Need you really ask?”

The white-haired young woman brought a hand up to the ring that sat securely around her own, her eyes turning sad.

“None of us like these circumstances.” The blonde rose up to stand on the branch she occupied, pointing to the metal ring at her throat. “And all of us know it is wrong. This is not our lot in this world.”

“Then what would you suggest, Urd?” Verdandi stepped from her branch, landing next to her blonde sister and looking her in the eyes. “Until these little necklaces are gone, we can’t do anything.”

“I’m working on that,” her sister replied.

“What about the hunters?”

The pair looked down at their sister, briefly exchanging an even look.

“We all know they’re here. It would be foolish to think that no one would come with what we’ve done.” The white-haired young woman sat examining a shoot on the branch she sat on. “Hunters always come.”

“Skuld?” Verdandi questioned gently.

“These two aren’t like others.” The white-haired sister, Skuld, looked at the pair above her with a serene look on her face. “What about them?”

Urd pushed a few stray locks of blonde hair from her face, slowly shaking her head. “They saw Verdandi’s latest 'idea,' and somehow, I doubt there is anything beyond shooting us dead on their minds right now.”

“I use what is available, as I always have,” Verdandi muttered.

The look that passed from Urd to her sister was nothing short of sibling annoyance, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. “You…hush.”

Verdandi did little more then roll her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“As I was saying, those two aren’t exactly fans of ours, Skuld. For now, we’re on our own,” Urd commented.

Skuld watched her siblings as she pushed her white hair behind her ear, her voice calm. “For now.”

~*~

Dean sat on the motel sofa looking through the pages of Sam’s research, his feet propped up on the small table.

After they had got back from town and Dean had grabbed a shower trying to get the smell of burnt flesh off his skin, they had started to settle into the normal hunt routine that seemed to come with each job, Dean checking and cleaning their weapons while Sam sifted through the information they found. As unconventional as it appeared from the outside, this was their norm. On a job like this, that small hint of normal was a comforting luxury.

But as much as Dean liked that small amount of “normal” in their lives, he knew it wouldn’t be all that helpful to Sam’s already over-worked mind. So Dean changed the normal routine, took up the research-sifting himself, and sent Sam out on a snack run. He hadn’t let Sam argue with him, hadn’t let him pull the whole “pouting puppy dog” routine on him, just handed him a crudely scrawled provisions list and a couple of twenties, and pushed him out the door. Any attempt at arguing was met with a raised hand and the tried and true “I’m older, what I say goes,” along with an added order not to return without everything on the list.

Dean made sure Sam was in the car and out of the parking lot before he settled down with a beer and the stack of notes and files they had gathered.

His way of going through the files was more or less reading and jotting the occasional note of his own down. He wasn’t the type to make a notebook like Sam or some long detailed journal entry the way his father used to. His way was simple, and it had worked well enough for him.

He flipped through the pages of articles and clippings as he considered the job, his mind casually running through the options of what they were dealing with. Sam’s list of maybes was good; he had covered quite a few bases. Just looking at it Dean could discount a few of them.

Trickster could be crossed off the list; none of these deaths were poetic in the least. Banshee could go as well because there were no reports of anyone hearing any unearthly wailing before any of the deaths. The more Dean thought about it, though, the more difficult it was to cross off other creatures on the list.

Dean took a drink and looked at the newspaper clippings of the three as he thought back to the library and the books Sam said the one woman had gone through.

There hadn’t been anything special about them that he could see. They had simply been a bunch of mass-produced New Age spell books that anyone could buy. True, at one point the spells and incantations would have been legitimate, but over time they had been watered down; translation errors, misspellings, and creative license on the part of others had turned words of power into little more than some cutesy chant with as much kick as a cap gun. The books wouldn’t have been much use at all.

That still didn’t answer the question of what she had been looking for in the first place. By what Sam had said, she had torn through each one front to back looking for something. The speed she went through each indicated the fluffy, watered down rituals weren’t her intended target. Studying them couldn’t even give a hint to what she was looking for.

Dean shrugged as he tossed the notebook on the table, turning to the folder nearby.

Trying to figure out those creatures was a lost cause at this point. Not knowing what they were or even what they were after didn’t help matters any. You can’t get an idea of what’s going through a thing’s mind without first knowing what you’re dealing with. And Dean wasn’t about to give himself the mother of all headaches trying.

Instead he’d rather focus on the victims. He had rough outlines of each person, a copy of the station call log going back four months, and copies of police reports on every single incident, so it wasn’t hard to piece together a timeline of chaos. In the three months those creatures had been there, they had blown a quiet police blotter out of the water.

Dean looked from his timeline to the call log a very friendly secretary from the police department had given him, stopping as he looked at the codes.

Before the three arrived, the bulk of the calls were just the usual small town fare. There were a lot of drunk and disorderly calls on a guy named Fred, a couple of disturbing the peace calls, and the occasional public nuisance call from some little old lady who thought the neighborhood kids were playing tag a little too loudly. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity. But tucked between what had to be the 200th drunk call on Fred and a complaint about someone stepping on the old lady’s lawn, there was one that seemed out of place in the small town: a missing persons on a 39-year-old man.

He reached for the timeline he had drawn up, comparing the date of the call to the chaos in the town.

The call came two days before the trio was spotted in town; two days before the first “accident” happened. The timing of it raised Dean’s suspicions as he looked over the reports he had. It could have been a coincidence but in their line of work coincidence rarely ever happened.

Dean looked over what information he had on the call as he got up from the couch and made a beeline for Sam’s laptop.

The missing man was a volunteer with the fire department and not known to be the type to just go off on a whim without saying a word. He had last been seen at the diner in town with a couple of buddies but left alone around 10:30. His wife made the report two hours later when he didn’t show up at home.

Dean grabbed the laptop and returned to his spot, tossing the call log down as he set himself up at the table. His interest had been piqued and his hunter’s instinct was nagging at him. The timing of it just wasn’t right.

He had turned the laptop on and settled in for a search when he heard the rumble of his baby’s engine outside. A quick glance at his watch got a cocky grin from his lips as he got online, the heavy sound of the car doors closing coming through the motel room’s window. Next time he sent Sam out on a snack run he’d have to make a longer list or at least come up with stranger fake snack names for him to search for.

Sam shot Dean an unamused look as he came in, three bags in his arms. “You secretly enjoy sending me on wild goose chases, don’t you?”

Dean chuckled as he pulled up a couple of websites, glancing at his brother briefly. “Oh come on, Sammy. It got you out for a while.”

“Chocolate Monkey Chuckles?” Sam huffed.

“Not my best, but it was short notice,” Dean muttered.

Sam headed toward the small kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. “You’re a jerk. Ya know that?”

Dean focused on the computer screen, tapping at the keys. “I’m full of awesome, Sammy. There’s a difference.”

Sam turned toward his brother, tossing the car keys on the table as he neared. “What are you doing?”

“I think I may have found something,” Dean said, grabbing his work. He handed Sam the papers as he turned back to the web pages. “Take a look at those.”

Sam flipped through the pages as Dean brought up more websites.

“Two days before the terrible trio showed up, this guy, Marcus Ballard, goes out for a couple of hours with his buddies but doesn’t show up back home. Wife calls the cops and reports him missing.” Dean motions toward the call log on the table, tapping his fingers against it. “Before that it was just a bunch of calls by a very crabby old lady and a record amount of calls on the town drunk.”

Sam looked up from the papers, a curious look on his face. “Maybe he just took off.”

“Friends say he wasn’t the type of guy.” Dean’s eyes scanned the computer screen. “Everyone who knew him said he was a devoted husband and father who just wouldn’t cut and run.”

“You think it could be tied to those three?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked up, shrugging slightly. “Maybe. It’s worth taking a look at least.” He pushed himself up from the couch, moving toward the bags in the kitchen. “But at least let me get that damned suit cleaned first. I don’t think going to talk to the wife smelling like bad fried food would add much credibility to questioning her.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Ballard house sat a couple miles west of town on a road that looked like it barely saw any traffic. It sat back away from the road on a good sized parcel of land that butted up against a large stand of trees, the house big enough for a growing family. It wasn’t exactly what either of them thought of when the term “domestic bliss” came to mind, but for the Ballard’s it obviously was.

Dean looked over the light blue two-story house as he stepped from the car, glancing toward Sam. “I’ll tell you one thing, Sammy. I don’t think I could ever live in a place like this.”

“Why’s that?” Sam glanced over the roof toward his brother. “Too quiet?”

“I’m not a country person.” Dean replied. He looked across the nicely kept lawn and flowerbeds, moving for the flower-framed concrete path toward the house. “This is too close to living on a farm for my tastes.”

Sam straightened his tie as they walked toward the front porch. “You don’t exactly scream 'farm boy,' and somehow, I can’t see you in a cowboy hat either.”

“Exactly my point,” Dean commented. He motioned toward their surroundings, giving a half shrug as he looked at Sam. “This…this is someone else’s idea of life. And that‘s fine for them. Not my thing.”

Sam chuckled as they walked up the home’s porch, reaching for the doorbell. “You’re more New York City than Green Acres.”

“Damn straight.” Dean nodded as he heard footsteps approaching the door, flashing Sam one of his cocky grins. “I’ll take cops over cows any day, Sammy.”

The front door opened as a slender woman came into view, looking at the pair quizzically. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Sarah Ballard?” Sam questioned.

She looked to be in her early thirties, her brown hair pulled up in a messy ponytail as her hazel eyes examined the pair. Her grey shirt and jean looked dusted with flour as she stood looking at them in the doorway. She finally nodded, wiping her hands on the dishtowel she carried. “Yes. And you are?”

With practiced skill the two flashed their badges, Dean introducing them. “I’m Agent Mercury, this is Agent May. FBI. We’d like to ask about your husband’s disappearance.”

~*~

The kitchen they followed Sarah Ballard into was nice-sized and, to Dean’s enjoyment, smelled of pie baking. The counters were cluttered with baking supplies as the subtle smell of cinnamon and apples filled the air around them. The kitchen table was filled with a handful of cookie boxes and a few loaves of cooling breads, making the kitchen seem more like a bakery.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I’ve been busy helping with a couple funeral dinners. I‘m the one who gets the baking duties,” Mrs. Ballard said as she moved toward the kitchen island. She turned to the pair and motioned to the stools. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Only if it’s not any trouble.” Sam took a seat and gave the woman a kind smile as Dean sat next to him. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Mrs. Ballard.”

She poured out two mugs of coffee and set them in front of the pair, shaking her head. “Please, call me Sarah. I’ve never been one for the formal name thing unless you’re one of my daughter’s teachers.”

Dean gave her a thank you nod as he took his mug, watching her step around the counter. “You seemed a little surprised to see us.”

“A little.” Sarah wiped up the flour from the counter, shrugging as she turned her attention back to the pair. “When everything started happening in town, I thought they completely forgot about Marc’s case. I hadn’t heard anything from anyone in months about it.”

“Well, it wasn’t completely forgotten about,” Dean said with a smile.

Sarah gave them a warm smile, relief showing in her eyes.

“So, Sarah, did Marc ever take off without telling anyone before?” Sam questioned, setting his coffee down.

“No. He’s always let someone know if he’s going to head off somewhere in case there’s a call,” Sarah answered calmly. “And he’s never been gone this long before.”

Dean exchanged a look with Sam, his brow knitting. “But he has taken off before?”

“On hunting or fishing trips with a couple friends. Either Dave or Ryan.” Her eyes moved from one to another as she answered, her hands resting on a bowl of apples in front of her. “But it’s not hunting season yet, and none of the guys called to plan a trip to the lake.”

Sam took a drink as a kitchen timer went off, Sarah excusing herself long enough to pull the pie she was baking from the oven. “The file said he went out with some buddies the night he disappeared.”

Sarah nodded as she set the pie on the counter to cool before she turned around. “Yeah. That was Dave and Ryan. Ryan just found out his wife is expecting, so Marc and Dave decided to take him out and celebrate. He called me to let me know he was going to be late.”

Dean looked toward his brother for a moment, his eyes falling back on Sarah. “But you waited up for him anyway?”

“Our daughter, Morgan, was sick, so I was up and down with her all night.” Sarah paused, taking a breath as she glanced at her wedding band. “But I would have waited for him anyway.”

Both men regarded the woman silently, their next question hanging heavy between them. They couldn’t help but catch the pain that still lingered in her voice as she looked at her ring. They weren’t exactly sure how to ask it without upsetting her further.

Sam measured his words, giving the woman a kind look. “I’m sorry to ask this, but do you know if your husband had any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt him?”

Sarah shook her head slowly, sadness clouding her hazel eyes.

Dean watched the woman quietly, his eyes moving to scan the kitchen after a moment. He knew from experience that the outlook wasn’t good for her husband at this point. If he had taken off on his own then maybe there was a chance he’d turn up, but given the circumstances, that “maybe” wasn’t looking so good.

As his eyes scanned the room, they caught a glimpse of scribbled construction paper fastened to a small easel in the corner. “Who’s the artist?”

Sam glanced toward the corner as Sarah’s eyes warmed. “My daughter, Morgan. Can’t keep enough paper stocked sometimes with her.”

Dean turned back to Sarah as did Sam, nodding toward the easel. “How has your daughter been handling her father’s disappearance?”

“For the first couple days she wasn’t sleeping well; kept asking for him and asking when he was going to come home.” Sarah looked at them both, sighing slightly. “I knew what to say if he had been injured in a fire, but how do you explain that daddy disappeared and no one can find him?”

Sam glanced over at his brother, remembering how Dean had broken the news their father was missing when he had shown up at Stanford and gotten him. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for a mother to explain to a little kid that their father was missing. However, it was a good bet the phrase “he’s on a hunting trip” never entered the conversation.

“Then Morgan made a new friend and she started doing better,” Sarah explained.

“It’s surprising how quick kids can bounce back sometimes.” Dean turned in his seat to get a better look at the drawing. “Is that a tree?”

Sarah nodded as Sam turned to really look at the drawing. “She’s been drawing a lot of tree pictures lately. All different shapes and colors. I think she’s trying to make her own story book.”

Sam took a long look at the drawing before he turned back, taking a drink of his coffee.

“And her new friend has some interesting stories for a 7-year-old. I think that’s where Morgan got her ideas for the tree drawings – from a story Nona told her.”

Dean’s brow knit as he turned back, watching Sarah start to clean up the counter a little more. “That’s a strange name for a little girl.”

“That’s what I thought when I heard it too.” She looked up at the pair as she paused her cleaning. “But I guess it’s her parents' call.”

Sam was silent for a moment as he stared at his coffee cup, his finger tapping the side of the cup.

Dean recognized the look on Sam’s face, turning to Sarah calmly. “So we heard about all those deaths in town lately. Weird about how many keep happening.”

“It’s a shame. In a town this size, everyone knows everyone. I went to school with Catherine, the woman who was electrocuted the other day. I couldn’t believe she died and I wouldn’t wish that way to go on anyone.”

Dean watched her clear the counter as Sam finally looked up from his coffee. He glanced toward his brother with a questioning look as Sarah’s back was turned, getting little more than a scowl in return. He simply shook his head as Sarah turned back around.

“Honestly, if these freak accidents keep up, this town won’t have anyone left,” Sarah muttered.

Dean’s eyebrow rose at the rather ominous comment as Sam cleared his throat.

“This may sound strange, but have you seen anyone... off around town lately?” Sam finally questioned.

Sarah looked at him a little puzzled, thinking for a moment before she shook her head. “I can’t remember seeing anyone.”

Sam reached into his jacket, pulling out some photos and placing them on the counter. “Have you seen any of these people?”

Dean’s eyes moved briefly from Sarah to the photos Sam had printed out before they left the motel.

While Dean was busy getting the burning flesh smell out of his suit, Sam had been busy printing out photos of the trio they were after. He had found every shot they had shown up in, every disguise they had used from the school girls to the little old ladies Sam had noticed in some photos. It took a little work to get the accident scenes they had shown up at cropped out and their faces zoomed in enough they could be recognized but he eventually did it.

Sarah examined the photos for a moment, nodding. “I don’t know who the other two are but that’s Morgan’s friend Nona.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances as Sarah pointed at the blonde in the school uniform.

“You’re sure?” Dean questioned.

“Yes. She has the prettiest blue eyes of anyone I’ve seen,” Sarah replied.

Sam nodded slowly as he gathered up the photos, looking up at Sarah with a kind smile. “That’s all I was wondering.”

“Well, I think we’ve taken up enough of your time,” Dean said clapping his hands together slightly. “Do you think we can get the names of your husband’s friends so we can go talk to them? Maybe they can help shed some light on his disappearance.”

“Of course.” Sarah grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper nearby, writing down the information. “They usually hang out at a bar called Walt’s after work if you can’t find them at work or at home.”

The pair stood as Sarah handed Dean the paper.

“If we have any more questions or find anything out about your husband, we’ll give you a call,” Sam said with a nod.

Sarah walked them to the door, giving them an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

They walked onto the porch, Sarah standing in the doorway as Dean tucked the slip of paper into his pocket. Sam was on the steps as Dean paused and took a deep breath, turning back.

“Sarah, we know you want your husband to come back, but it wouldn’t be right to give you false hopes.” Dean looked at the woman, his voice kind as he spoke. “It’s been 3 months since he went missing; that’s not exactly good news. We’ll see what we can find, but we can’t guarantee anything.”

Sarah didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes showed that, sadly, she understood.

“We’ll be in touch.” He gave her a small nod as he turned and moved down the steps toward the driveway.

Sam followed as they moved to the driveway, his voice low enough for only Dean to hear as they walked the concrete path. “Looks like your hunch was right. Ballard’s disappearance is tied to those three showing up.”

“I wish I had been wrong, Sam.” He reached for the driver’s door as Sam made his way around the hood, glancing back at the house one last time before he slid behind the wheel. “I had really hoped I was wrong about this one.”

Sam looked at his brother as he shut the passenger door. “You think he was actually the first victim?”

The Impala rumbled to life as Dean turned the key, shaking his head. “I hope to hell not.”

“Well, we do know one thing for sure,” Sam muttered, Dean turning the car around and starting back down the driveway.

A smirk crossed Dean’s lips as he stopped at the end of the drive, seeing Sam pull out the photo of the three schoolgirls. “We’re looking for a girl named Nona.”

~*~

Urd watched the children on the playground from her spot beneath the large maple tree, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the trunk.

Any other day she would be out in the sea of faces, hidden in plain view. She’d be playing their games; talking with the ones who always seemed drawn to her no matter what. Any other day she would be out keeping Morgan company in the little girl’s hiding spot beneath the wooden play castle.

She sighed, tugging at the iron ring sitting at her neck. “Damn thing.”

Her gaze moved back to the schoolyard as she sunk to the ground, her shoulders sinking.

Children were her norm, her ‘element’. No matter how old she truly was or how humans thought to portray her, she was, in essence, childhood. All humans, no matter what race, sex, or religion, spent time with her; just as they spent time with each of her sisters. Keeping her from her element, even a little bit, was punishment.

She watched the children play as she flicked the ring with her finger, her eyes narrowing.

No matter what any of them did, those rings would not come off. Moreover, it was the most annoying thing in the world. It was heavy, it chafed against bare skin, and it was itchy. That wasn’t even including the whole servitude thing.

Urd took a deep breath as her fingers wrapped around the metal, letting it out in an almost too calm sigh. She took another as her grip tightened, the calmness from before slipping away quickly as she fought to remove the ring. Where once a calm figure sat, now was little more than the scene of a spastic, swearing body.

In the back of her mind, Urd was glad no one could see her current state, shifting effortlessly from young woman to old woman to schoolgirl as she tugged feverishly at her ‘necklace’. The fight probably looked like some kind of seizure as she pulled at the iron ring but the quick change she was doing would have been unexplainable. The human shift was one thing but when her elderly form became a golden-feathered bird, any human would have truly begun to question their sanity.

After a five-minute struggle, the bird lay unceremoniously on its back in the grass. The small body elongated and filled out, the wings thinning as the tip feathers curled into fingers. The beak opened as the face became human, the screech it emitted finding its verbal equivalent as Urd finally finished the change; the little girl lying on the grass in its place.

“FUCK!” Her composure in the small body was short lived as she threw a tantrum that would make a true 3-year-old proud, kicking and pounding at the earth beneath her. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

She pushed herself up after a moment, running a hand back through her hair as she calmed her breathing.

“I could have told you that wouldn’t work.”

“Shut up, Verdandi.” Urd scowled as she looked toward the playground, dusting herself off as she sat there. “Don’t you have some place to be loitering?”

The young woman grinned as she jumped from the shadows above, landing beside the girl. “Not at the moment.”

“Oh joy.” Urd fell back in the grass, closing her eyes as her sister sat down. “This damn thing feels like it's getting heavier.”

Verdandi plucked a blade of grass from near her leg, rolling it between her fingers. “Children shouldn’t swear.”

“Bitch.” Urd’s leg swept out and caught her sister’s knee, delivering a hard kick. “You forget who’s older.”

“Older isn’t the same as mature,” Verdandi muttered, rubbing her knee. She paused for a moment as she measured her words carefully. “You haven’t found anything in the books yet, have you?”

“No. I have not.” The tone was so matter of fact and the voice so young that Verdandi couldn’t help but look up to make sure she was talking to her actual sister. “Did you find the book she used?”

“I checked every book in that fucking house and not one of them was a spellbook. Bitch has a shitload of cookbooks, though.” Verdandi huffed as Urd raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t once seen her cook since we got here.”

Urd raked her teeth across her top lip as she took a deep breath, shaking her head. “Ya know, I think we have other things to worry about besides her cooking.”

“I thought it was interesting,” Verdandi mumbled.

“Fascinating,” Urd replied flatly. “Where’s Skuld?”

Verdandi looked toward the playground as the school’s bell rang and called the kids back to class. “Watching the morbid little power monger as we speak.”

“I’ve got one more place to look before I look elsewhere,” Urd explained, her features changing as she became a young woman. “I hope that source doesn’t let me down.”

Verdandi watched her sister flick the ring around her neck quietly.

“I know you want to ask, so you might as well. Skuld has already,” Urd commented, her fingers tracing the ring at her throat.

“We can’t leave this town. We’ve each tried and you know it. So what is this other source you plan on using?”

Urd stood and dusted her jeans off, looking at her sister. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Skuld: it’s a human I met years ago. That’s all you need to know.”

Verdandi’s jaw set as she looked up at her sister, letting out an annoyed growl. “I’ve been walking this world for as long as you have, sister. I’ve come across my share of humans, and I will admit, I’ve had my fair share of favorites with these mortals. Hell, I still have my favorites. But I haven’t once come to the point of trusting one of them.”

“But that’s you.” Urd watched her sister stand, looking her in the eyes. “You should really try to see these humans for the individuals and not the group.”

Verdandi shook her head. “I haven’t seen any redeeming qualities so far.”

Urd opened her mouth to speak but found no voice, worry in her eyes.

The conversation abruptly stopped as the iron rings around their necks snapped tight, bringing the pair to their knees. Their fingers clawed at the rings, each fighting for air and freedom. They doubled over gasping for breath before they vanished.

They reappeared side by side in a darkened room, Skuld beside them. Each fought for a breath that didn’t come as slender fingers continued pulling at the metal that would not budge. The pressure at their throats continued until they each saw the telltale black spots before their eyes, letting up just as abruptly as it started.

The trio remained where they appeared, their gasps and coughs filling the air as they caught their breaths.

A new sound caught their attention in the darkened room, three sets of piercing blue moving toward the source of the footsteps.

The redhead that stood in front of them didn’t look so intimidating. She looked like the kind of person who could simply get lost in a crowd: medium build, with plain features that didn’t attract much in the way of attention. Even her clothing made her seem no less ordinary than anyone else, almost librarian-like.

She looked at the trio calmly as she crossed her arms over her chest, the wood and metal objects in her left hand catching the trio’s eyes briefly.

“I have a job for you.”


	8. Chapter 8

“I don’t like this.”

The comment hung heavy between the young women seated outside the small gas station just north of Oak Ridge. It was amazing how much weight four little words could carry when they echoed the sentiment of others. Just the utterance of those words seemed to carry the very gravity of a situation, especially theirs.

Blue eyes shifted to an ominously calm face before they moved back to the road, settling on each passing car with a heavy sigh.

“We got that the first dozen times you said it, Skuld,” Urd muttered, her chin resting on her knees. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”

Skuld kicked a rock at her foot, watching the pebble bounce off the gas pump nearby. “But it bears repeating.”

Urd was silent as she watched the millionth red truck pass by, shaking her head.

“None of us likes this,” Verdandi commented as she lay behind the pair.

The three sat occupying a small picnic table outside of Red’s Service Station, waiting for their ‘job’ to show up. The mood between the three bordered on somber as they watched the cars pass by. Rarely a word was spoken between the trio as each car passed, the tension in the air growing with each passing second.

It was no secret none of them liked this new task. Even Verdandi had objected when the order was given. However, there was nothing they could do; their ‘master’ gave them an order and they couldn’t go against it. So there they were, waiting at the town’s little gas station/garage for the latest additions to the ever-growing body count.

Skuld sat kicking at the pebbles at her feet as Urd occupied the opposite end of the small bench, curled up with her knees to her chest. And while the pair watched every car that passed, Verdandi lay sprawled out on the table behind them.

Urd closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her skin as she focused on the sounds around them. The soft bump of the pebbles Skuld kicked mixed with the sounds of the mechanics in the nearby garage bay to make an almost relaxing version of white noise. At least it was enough to drown out the uneasy thoughts in her head.

Skuld kicked a larger stone, watching it bounce across the broken concrete to ring soundly against the gas pump’s metal facing. A small smile pulled at her lips as she sat back, glancing at her oldest sister for a moment. She sighed softly as she pushed her hair from her face.

“You know, we’ve done a lot of jobs in the past. I’m talking huge jobs. Ones that have gone down in history. Europe’s Black Plague, Vesuvius erupting, the bombings of Pearl Harbor and Japan, and all those countless other history makers we’ve done. But somehow I don’t really think Oak Ridge, Ohio, is going to show up in our list of history-making jobs,” Verdandi muttered.

Skuld turned to look at her sister, her brow knitting. “There’s a list? You’re telling me you made a list?”

“Natural and man-made disasters, wars and pretty much anything these humans can throw at each other. It’s an interesting list.” Verdandi turned her head, looking at her sister. “You should read it sometime.”

“Thanks, but no.” Skuld looked back toward the road, giving her sister behind her an uneasy glance. “You worry me sometimes.”

“She worries me all the time, Skuld.” Urd opened her eyes, looking at the sister beside her. “Welcome to my world.”

Verdandi sat up, looking around as she popped her neck. “I’m sure it’s some freaky place with talking unicorns and little happy elves jumping rope or something.”

“Are you high?” Urd turned and glared at her sister, her brow knitting. “Seriously.”

“Nope, just bored.” She pushed her black hair back, eying the banner advertising cold drinks. “And hungry.”

A look of confusion crossed both Skuld and Urd’s faces as their sister climbed from the table.

“I’m gonna get something to eat. You two want anything?” Verdandi asked, turning to the two.

The pair on the bench shook their heads as their sister dusted herself off and moved toward the shop’s door. “Just checking.”

Skuld scratched her head as Urd scowled at the retreating figure, both hearing the bell on the door ring as she entered.

“I can’t believe her.” Urd shook her head, waving toward the small store. “She can’t find one redeeming quality about humans unless it's food related.”

Skuld thumbed toward the store, confusion still in her eyes. “Where did she get money from?”

Urd shrugged, sitting back. “Who knows at this point. She probably stole it from that Kim woman’s house.”

Skuld looked toward the store, tucking a lock of white hair behind her ear. “The longer we’re here, the worse she’s getting. Especially with these tasks we’re getting.”

“Verdandi has always been creative, but I know what you’re saying. It’s too many, too fast.” Urd commented, putting her head back against the table. “All of this is wearing us down, Skuld.”

Skuld nodded, taking an even breath. “These ‘jobs’ are getting worse and worse.”

“And her hit list doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter,” Urd muttered.

A moment of silence passed between the two as Urd examined her hands, the slender fingers of her left hand curling and uncurling as she made a fist. Skuld watched the gesture quietly, pursing her lips as the motion continued.

“Are you sure we can get out of all this? That contact of yours, he can help us?” Skuld finally asked.

Urd turned her left hand over before resting it in her lap. “Have a little faith, Skuld.”

The pair looked up as Verdandi stepped from the store with a soda and bag of chips, both shaking their heads.

“What?” Verdandi took a long drink of the soda she carried, stepping on her sister’s bench as she reclaimed her spot on the table. “You act like I’ve done something wrong.”

“Not yet.” Skuld muttered. Her eyes locked on a spot on the horizon as she straightened, her tone even. “But you will.”

Urd looked over her shoulder as Verdandi shoved a couple potato chips in her mouth, motioning to the snack. “You know you’re just going to lose those.”

“I know.” Verdandi grinned as she held up the green soda bottle, tipping it toward her sister. “But I might as well enjoy it while I can.”

Both looked toward the pumps as a car pulled up, their blue eyes locking on the two women arguing inside.

“What an attractive couple,” Verdandi muttered sarcasm in her voice. She coughed, bringing a hand to her mouth. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

Urd rolled her eyes as she got to her feet, hearing the muffled shouting from the car behind her. “Now really isn’t the time for the smart remarks, Verdandi.”

“You’re such a buzz kill, you know that?” Verdandi shoved a handful of chips in her mouth, motioning toward the little red car at the pumps. “Besides, they aren’t going anywhere. We all know that.”

Their attention moved to the car at the gas pump as the women got out, the three exchanging glances.

They knew the women by name, Mindy Crosby and Lanae Weaver respectively, and the photos their “master” had shown them had been correct.

Lanae was the tallest of the pair, the photo of her not really doing her justice. They had only seen a head shot of her, some overly happy shot with a grin Verdandi had called corny, but it had been enough to identify her. Seeing her in person put her in a different perspective.

She was tall, but her pear-shaped frame and medium build seemed to take away from that fact. The short mess of overly reddish-brown hair left a lot to be desired and made her look far less appealing than if it had been a more natural shade. Her face was long and somehow didn’t seem to fit with the rest of her, the flash of too-large teeth doing very little to add any amount of attractiveness that one could see. The jeans and faded concert tee she wore were styled more male than female and gave her a butch appearance. From a distance, her mannerisms made her look like a man to the trio at the picnic table though they knew better. Normally a butch woman wouldn't be a problem for them. They had come across many before in their time but this one was different There was something more, something beneath the surface that the trio caught. It was something that didn't sit well with any of them. There was a darkness in Lanae's personality that seemed to radiate out from her and turned their stomachs in a nervous fit when they looked her way. They could see it in her eyes, that thinly veiled flash that warned of a double-cross and killed any inkling of trust that may have surfaced.

Verdandi swirled her soda around before she took a drink, a cocky grin on her face. “Now that’s a bad dye job. Are we sure that’s even a woman?”

“Yes,” Skuld muttered.

“Just checking.” Verdandi sighed and looked toward the second woman, shaking her head. “Oh yeah. She’s a winner too.”

Mindy, the shorter of the two, wasn’t much easier on the eyes. She was heavy set, her brown hair pulled back into a messy looking ponytail. They knew she was 36 but her face made her look far older than that. The round face was sagged, the circles present beneath her eyes adding to her age. The jeans and dark cotton tee shirt she wore fit her well enough and looked comfortable on her as she got out of the car. Unlike her traveling companion, there was no uneasy feeling that hung around Mindy. She simply looked haggard.

“Hey, twenty bucks says she ain’t got a tooth in her head,” Verdandi cheerfully offered.

Her sisters turned and leveled a cold glare at her, Urd shaking her head.

“What is wrong with you?” Skuld hissed.

Verdandi shot her younger sister a pissy look, her eyes moving to the cold figure of Urd nearby.

“That smart-ass comment is the last one I want to hear come from your mouth until this is over.” There was a dangerous edge to Urd’s voice as she pointed at Verdandi, her eyes cold. “Am I clear?”

The young woman nodded as she threw her hands up, swallowing her mouthful of soda as she took a sudden interest in the leg of her jeans.

Skuld’s eyes moved to her oldest sister for a moment, catching a glimmer of exhaustion in her eyes.

“Let's get this over with,” Urd muttered, shaking her head slowly.

Skuld turned to Verdandi, giving her a death glare as their sister turned back toward the pumps. She got to her feet, her voice a low hiss as she looked her older sister in the eyes. It was clear how unamused the young woman was.

“Seriously. Knock it off,” she hissed. “You aren’t helping.”

Verdandi rolled her eyes, finishing off the remaining chips before wiping her hands on her jeans. “Whatever.”

Urd ignored the pair behind her as she stood watching the women at the pump.

They had no idea what was about to happen to them; no idea that someone had made them a “task” for the Fates. Like most humans, they probably thought that the trio who watched them now was little more than a story told to children, some fairytale passed through the ages. Even if they didn’t shrug them off as myth, if they knew exactly what lay in store, it couldn’t help them. Nothing could at this point; their fate had already been chosen for them.

A heavy sigh escaped the soft red lips as Verdandi and Skuld moved to stand with her, her slender hand clenching slightly.

The trio watched the women continue their argument from the car, exchanging saddened glances.

“Why are you so upset about me spending time with a friend?” Mindy questioned.

The three sets of blue moved to Lanae as she reached for the gas nozzle, Verdandi taking a deep breath.

Urd’s left arm rose gracefully as the delicate fingers spread apart, her hand reaching toward the scene. Her eyes focused on the pair as she concentrated, the piercing blue of her eyes growing colder. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath and her spine straightened.

“Ligamen a vita, audite textor textrix dico.” Her voice held an otherworldly echo as she spoke, filling the air around them and sending chills down her siblings’ spines. “Adeo mihi!”

The air glittered as three gossamer threads snaked their way to the outstretched hand, dancing around the delicate fingers as Urd’s hand turned over. Her fingers curled and drew the threads in, a quick roll of her wrist combining the threads.

“Three?” Skuld looked at the threads, tracing the extra thread toward the garage with her eyes. “This is going to be messy.”

Urd’s hand wrapped around the combined threads in a fist, her eyes flashing a brilliant blue as she pulled them taught and brought her fist toward her chest. “More than one is always messy.”

Their eyes moved to the women at the pump, watching as life played out before them.

The argument from the car continued as Lanae filled the tank, Mindy watching her from across the trunk.

“Why don’t you answer me?” She glared across the car at the woman who refused to respond, her hands clenching into fists. “Damn it, Lanae.”

Three sets of eyes settled on the silent woman; three sets examining the emotionless face.

The annoyingly incessant voice with its pointed questions did little to change the blank expression. It was as if Lanae wasn’t even listening to her traveling companion. However, while her face showed nothing, the blue eyes caught a dangerous flicker in the green orbs. It was a subtle glimpse but it was there; a precursor to a growing danger.

Verdandi’s hand moved to the threads, her gaze settling on the emotionless face.

“It’s fine for you to go out with friends, but the minute I go to my friends without you, you go off the deep end. You call me, tell me to get my ass back to where you are or else.” Mindy’s gestures mirrored the anger in her voice as she talked. “You threaten to destroy my things; in some cases, you do just that. And you think all that is okay.”

Skuld and Urd glanced toward their sister as Lanae moved to open the car’s trunk.

“I just don’t get you, Lanae. You flip out over nothing, then expect me to act like everything is okay,” Mindy continued.

Skuld reached for the thread, her fingers hovering above it as Lanae dug around in the car’s trunk. Urd continued to hold the strings tight while Verdandi let her fingers skim across them. None of them looked away as Mindy kept pushing, Verdandi’s fingers closing ever so slowly around the thread.

“You berate me, say you’re sorry, then turn around and do it all again.” Mindy moved closer, Lanae still looking through the trunk. “After all that, I still help you. And for what? I begged people for money so you wouldn’t get kicked out of your apartment just so you could turn around and yell at me, tell me I wasn’t a good friend because I didn’t beg your landlord to give you more time.”

Verdandi’s fingers pinched the threads before they danced further down the shimmering cord and pinched again, removing her hand.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Skuld focused on the two marks her sister had left behind, her fingers coming down on the first one to pinch it.

The movement from the trunk was fast as Lanae spun around, the tire iron in her hand connecting with Mindy’s face. “Shut your fucking mouth, cow.”

The trio watched as blood flew from the woman’s mouth and her body reeled backward.

“I’m sick of your stupid fucking voice.” The iron swung around and connected with the side of Mindy’s skull, sending her to the ground. “You’re nothing but a fat ugly whore.”

She swung the iron at the prone body, connecting with the woman’s skull each time. The sound of bone breaking filled the air with each swing as blood continued to fly, spattering the car as well as Lanae in the process. The brutal beating continued even as the body lay motionless at Lanae’s feet, the rage in her eyes never ebbing. Each swing brought with it the most disturbing sound that didn’t faze the woman in the slightest.

The sound, like an over-ripe melon dropping on a sidewalk, may not have done anything to faze Mindy’s attacker but it was a different story with the trio. It was disturbing; even for one who had seen so much destruction over the centuries it was disturbing. Verdandi turned away from the scene and found a sudden interest in the soda bottle she carried, trying to ignore the sound as best she could. It may have been her ‘idea,’ but the sound was unsettling. For Urd and Skuld, turning around wasn’t an option; the only thing to do was close their eyes.

The sound finally stopped as Lanae, blood-covered and looking for the world like a caged animal, backed away. “When someone says shut up, you shut the hell up.”

The sisters returned to watching the scene as Lanae backed up, knocking the gas nozzle loose from the car.

It hit the broken concrete with a metallic ring, sending up a shower of the flammable liquid that soaked the woman and formed a creeping puddle across the cement. The sharp smell of gasoline began to waft across the small lot, the acrid scent reaching the garage as the growing puddle spread to the lifeless form just behind the car. As the woman began to pace, the now pink-tinged pool slowly stretched beneath the car.

Skuld swallowed as she looked toward her older siblings, her hand hovering above the second mark. “It couldn’t have been something simple like a car wreck.”

“I use what is available,” Verdandi muttered.

Urd shook her head as she exchanged a glance with the youngest, her eyes moving back to the scene before them.

There was a movement from the garage as the mechanic on duty stepped out, the heavy-set old man wiping his hands on a rag.

Skuld took a deep breath as she noticed the thread coming from the man’s chest. “Him?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Urd sighed.

The old man took a deep breath as the sun shown down, the smile that had been on his face fading with the strong smell of fuel that hit his nose. His gaze moved out across the drive and pumps to find the source, freezing at the scene before him. The color drained from his rounded face as he took in the sight: the bloody mess of a woman pacing beside the lifeless body as a growing pool of gasoline stretched out beneath the parked car.

“Red, call the cops!”

Skuld’s fingers pinched the last mark on the threads with the words, hearing the snap of the cords.

Lanae spun toward the voice in surprise, the tire iron at her side sparking as it dragged quickly across the concrete.

It took one single spark to catch fire to the gasoline near her foot and set the pool ablaze. The flames shot upward to find the fuel on her clothing and snaked along the surface of the pools to set both victim and attacker alight and fill the air with black smoke. The writhing body could barely be seen in the dense smoke even as the flames covered her.

The three exchanged quick glances as the fire spread beneath the car to the gas tank.

“This is gonna be quick,” Verdandi muttered, taking a drink from her soda.

The flames swirled around the car’s gas tank as the smoke rose higher and cast a shadow over the service station. It wasn’t long before a hissing sound could be heard through the smoke. For the briefest moment the clouds around the car parted and an uneasy silence filled the air, the orange-red flames licking the sides of the car in a wild dance.

The silence was short-lived though, the gas tank finally succumbing to the heat.

The car ripped apart, sending shards of glass and metal in all directions in its shockwave. The heavy smoke rolled away in a fireball that engulfed everything it touched as it fed on the fume heavy air and spread a path of destruction across the lot. Glass melted and metal curled, the air splitting with an earth-rattling boom that could be heard for miles.

The three watched the fireball race outward, claiming the mechanic’s life and charring the buildings nearby. They didn’t look away as the fire moved steadily toward them. They didn’t really seem to care as the wall of fire reached out and rolled over them, the wicked flames surrounding each one as the black smoke settled thick around the destruction.

For a moment, there was no movement in the darkness. There was no motion in the smoke where the trio had been; no discernible shapes that stood out to the eye. No voices penetrated the undulating miasma as the fires continued to burn, sending dark plumes high above the scene.

The grey-black haze swirled as though teased by an unfelt breeze in the oddly stagnant atmosphere, three forms finally taking shape. It parted before the figures, misty tendrils trying to hold to the slender bodies in a final attempt to keep them hidden in the choking haze. The tiny wisps that clung to the unscathed trio disappeared as they walked away from the scene.

“Do you know what the word subtle means?” Skuld dusted herself off as she glanced toward Verdandi. “Honestly. Do you know the meaning of the word?”

“I know how to do subtle,” Verdandi muttered her eyes on her now empty hand. “Should have finished my soda. Now I’m thirsty.”

Urd pushed her hair back, walking in silence as her sisters spoke.

“Subtle, an adjective meaning slight and not obvious.” Skuld glanced back toward the wreckage. “Blowing up a gas station is not subtle.”

Verdandi shrugged, walking behind her older sister. “But it worked.”

“Forty-foot-high smoke plume and all,” Skuld muttered. “Gee, I wonder if the hunters in town will notice that.”

Urd tucked her hands in her pockets as she walked, her eyes shifting toward town. “You’d have to be stupid to think they wouldn’t notice.”

Both women looked toward her as they continued to put distance between themselves and their handiwork.

“If anything, it will probably make them want to kill us that much faster,” Urd commented.

“So now what do we do?” Verdandi questioned.

Urd stopped and turned toward her sisters, sighing heavily. “Same thing we were doing before. We avoid them and keep looking for that damn book. Not exactly rocket science there.”

“Not blowing anything else up would help too,” Skuld added. “Less 'here we are, come kill us' neon sign-ish that way.”

Verdandi shot her sister a less than happy look as Urd pushed a hand back through her hair. “Not exactly how I would have phrased it, but that too.”

“Oh, come on. It was a job,” Verdandi hissed, throwing her hands up. “It got done.”

“At any rate, we just have to avoid them a little more actively, avoid any more pyrotechnics and we should be okay,” Urd interrupted.

Skuld’s eyes shifted toward the road, her ears picking up the distant wail of sirens.

“And our ‘master’? What about her?”

Verdandi’s question, coupled with the venom that hung heavy around the word 'master,' struck an already-raw nerve with Urd.

“The longer she holds us, the worse her punishment will be.” Skuld’s voice was even as she spoke, looking at each sister in turn. “We all know this.”

“We’ll deal with her when the time comes,” Urd replied.

“And the damned spellbook? We’ve looked all over that house and found nothing.” Verdandi leveled her gaze on her older sister. “What else do we do?”

“Look everywhere else she goes. We check beyond that house.” The edge in her voice was dangerous as she looked at her sisters. “She’s only ever seen us like this so we use the forms she hasn’t seen and we look elsewhere.”

Skuld and Verdandi nodded as Urd turned and walked toward town, the sounds of sirens converging behind them.

~*~

Dean sighed as he and Sam left the Oak Ridge municipal garage, fishing his baby’s keys from his pocket.

The visit to Ryan McKay hadn’t gotten them very far in their investigation. They weren’t any closer to the answer of why the trio was there, not even any closer to a way of getting rid of them either, but sometimes that’s the way the job worked. And while they hadn’t gotten anything useful on their target, they did have more on Marcus Ballard than before.

“I feel like we know less now then we did going in for some reason,” Dean muttered as they walked across the shop’s parking lot.

Sam huffed softly as he walked besides his brother, shaking his head slightly. “Maybe we got this guy wrong, Dean. Maybe Marcus Ballard is just a missing persons case and nothing more.”

Dean’s brow knit as they moved down the street toward the Impala.

“You heard the same thing I did about Ballard; he was a happily married family man with no enemies. We couldn’t even find a parking ticket on the guy,” Sam added.

“I don’t know, dude.” Dean glanced toward Sam, his tone even as he ran through a couple things in his head. “Something about this doesn’t seem right. I mean, he disappears and those things show up; that timing isn’t right, Sam.”

Sam considered his brother’s words as he approached the car, pausing as he reached the passenger door. “Think we missed something?”

“Maybe. Can’t hurt to take a look back at the notes.” Dean looked toward Sam, opening his door. “I wanna talk to that Dave Quarles guy first though. Sounds like he was the last person to see Ballard the night he vanished.”

Sam nodded, glancing down the street. “I can’t help wondering why the blonde is hanging around Ballard’s daughter.”

“Who knows with these things, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, loosening his tie. “I’ll just be glad when we can smoke the broads.”

Sam opened the Impala’s door as Dean slid behind the wheel.

The key barely touched the ignition when the peaceful afternoon air erupted with a bang, the car’s windows rattling from the sound. It was loud enough to silence the ever-present birdsong that filled the air and made the pair jump with its intensity. The sound was enough to make their breath catch as they looked for the source.

“What the hell was that?” Dean questioned.

Sam’s eyes scanned the surroundings as Dean got out from the car to look around for himself. “Whatever it is, it didn’t sound good.”

Dean squinted against the midday sun, his arm resting on the Impala’s roof as he held on to the driver’s door. His green eyes scanned the horizon for anything out of the ordinary as his ears caught the screams of sirens heading through town. He felt his stomach drop when his eyes locked on the column of black smoke rising in the air to the north.

“Son of a bitch.”

Sam swallowed as he spotted the smoke, his face clouding. “That’s not good.” He eyes moved across the car’s roof toward Dean, an edge to his voice. “You think it’s them?”

“At this point, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he watched the smoke in the distance, sinking back into the car. “Come on, Sam. We’ve got work to do.”

Sam slid in to the passenger seat, the door shutting with a loud creak as the Impala roared to life and pulled away from the curb.


	9. Chapter 9

In a town the size of Oak Ridge, word traveled fast. Be it gossip or news of a more shocking nature, it always spread like wildfire in small towns. Maybe it was the whole sensational nature of the pieces that made them move so quickly, each story dispelling a little more of the mundane routine that built up overtime. Whatever the reason was behind it, Oak Ridge was no different than other small towns.

When Sam and Dean arrived on Main Street heading toward the Beech Nut Cafe, news of the explosion was already starting to make the rounds around town. They couldn't walk past anyone on the street without hearing some little tidbit of information about it. By the time they reached the cafe's front door, they could piece together some of what had happened.

By what they could pick out, some long time loner resident beat her traveling companion to death then set herself on fire. It wasn't exactly a pretty picture that popped into their heads hearing that but that was the buzz around town. They weren't exactly sure how accurate the Oak Ridge gossip machine was but with the type of news spreading around, it wouldn't be too hard to check out.

The pair looked around the coffee shop as they entered, the heady smell of ground coffee beans and baked goods hitting them full in the face.

The coffee shop was good sized for a small town. The walls were a rich shade of red that made the atmosphere feel warm and relaxing. The walls were decorated with tastefully framed photographs and prints, the occasional plant here and there adding to the decor. The tables and chairs were a black wrought iron design, each table top inlayed with a tiled sun design. There was a sitting area with comfortable leather couches and armchairs set in a far corner of the shop, small dark wood side tables and reading lamps beside each seat. The dark oak counter stretched across the far wall, the trays of fresh baked muffins and cookies sitting neatly inside the glass display cases next to the register. The shelves behind it were filled with bottles of flavored syrups, boxes of specialty blend teas, and ceramic mugs for sale.

It wasn't very busy yet, a single man working behind the counter when the pair entered. He was handsome and looked to be in his early 30s with short messy brown hair, a muscular build hidden beneath a pair of well worn jeans and a faded blue tee. There was the hint of a tattoo peeking from beneath his right sleeve, the rounded leaves of a four-leaf clover coming into view as he moved. His brown eyes shifted toward the door quickly as the pair entered only to move back to his work.

Dean inhaled sharply and let it out in a heavy sigh as he adjusted his jacket. “Think we have time to get some coffee and maybe a sandwich? You can get your half-caff double vanilla latte.”

Sam gave him a small glare before he moved to the counter. “Knock it off, Dean.”

The young man behind the counter looked up from the tea display he was arranging as they approached, giving them a warm smile. “Hi. How can I help you?”

“I'm Agent May and this is my partner, Agent Mercury,” Sam introduced, showing the man his badge. “We're looking for Dave Quarles.”

The young man looked over Sam's badge, his expression growing serious. “I'm Dave Quarles. What's this about?”

“We're investigating the disappearance of Marcus Ballard and just wanted to ask you a couple of questions,” Dean replied.

Dave's brown eyes moved toward Dean and he smiled, giving him a once over. “Of course.”

Dean blinked and gave Sam an odd look as Dave moved around the counter to join them.

“Have a seat. More comfortable then standing.” Dave motioned toward one of the cafe's tables, waiting for them to sit before joining them. “So they finally got around to Marc's case, huh? About damn time.”

Sam pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket as Dean looked across the table at Dave. “We've heard that a lot.”

Dave gave Dean a coy smile as he leaned forward. “I'm sure you hear a lot of things.”

Sam cleared his throat as Dean coughed nervously. “Mr. Quarles, do you remember the night your friend vanished?”

The young man turned to Sam, nodding slightly. “Yeah. It was a normal night out with the guys. At least it was until about 10.”

Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam, his eyes moving back to the man across from him. “What do you mean?”

“We were there for a few hours; grabbed some dinner and a couple drinks, even shot some pool. It was the whole friends out for a good time celebration thing. About 10 or so, this woman we all know from high school comes in the bar,” Dave explained. He gave a small shrug, glancing briefly at Sam. “Normally it wouldn't be a big thing. A town this size, you're bound to see someone you went to school with.”

“What made this time different?” Sam questioned calmly.

“The way she was looking at our table. Hell, it was more like staring. Made Marc really uncomfortable,” Dave replied.

Dean cleared his throat, his brow furrowing slightly. “She was staring?”

“Creepy staring. It was weird. She sat in this booth across the room from us with this little journal thing and stared. I mean she'd look away now and again at that book but then she'd go right back to staring again.” Dave shook his head, sighing. “She's always been weird though.”

“Maybe she was checking you out,” Dean offered with a friendly smile.

Dave licked his lips as he looked at Dean, the corners of his mouth pulling into a seductive grin. “Not really my type. Now if she looked like you, it would be a different story.”

Sam choked back a laugh as Dean straightened in his chair. He could see Dean pale and swallow nervously as the man across from him casually let his fingers skim across the tabletop, Dean fidgeting in his seat. It took Sam a moment to compose himself enough to continue the questioning, the stifled laugh becoming the faintest hint of a smile at his brother's discomfort.

“So, Mr. Quarles, you said you knew her from school.” The amusement was still in his voice as Sam spoke, a quick clearing of his throat pushing it back. “Had you seen her acting strangely before?”

Dave thought for a moment, pushing a hand back through his short brown hair. “Not that way.”

A quick glance toward Dean made it clear he wasn't about about to speak without his voice betraying him, his composure having a little trouble returning with each seductive little smile Dave gave him. Sam laughed to himself but continued on, making a mental note about the whole situation. This was too good to let slide from his point of view.

With the smile still tugging at his lips, Sam asked what he knew was on his shell-shocked brother's mind. “What do you mean 'not that way'?”

“Well, like I said, she was always a strange one. In school she was, like, scary strange. Always reading these weird books with strange symbols, staying to herself; she scared everyone off who ever tried approaching her.” Dave paused as if choosing his words. “I guess she'd be called wanna-be goth by today's standards. She never dressed like one but she acted almost border-line.”

Dean coughed as he pulled himself together, ignoring the looks Dave was still giving him. “You remember her name?”

“Kimberly Martin-Lund.” Dave rolled his eyes at the name, rolling his hand around on his wrist. “The hyphenated name didn't make her any classier in school and it sure as hell don't make her any classier now.”

Sam jotted the name down while Dean put on his best Fed face. “Now other than her, have you seen anyone strange in town recently?”

“Well there were those triplets last week but I think they were just passing through,” Dave commented, focusing on Dean. “I haven't seen them since Don Richards was hit by that car and killed.”

It was automatic the way Sam pulled the photos of the triplets out of his pocket and fanned them out on the table. He gave the young man a moment to look them over before he gestured toward the make-shift lineup. “What about these people? Have you seen any of them around?”

Dave examined each photo carefully, picking up a picture of the young women. “They were here when Don was killed. I remember cause the white-haired one ordered the house blend tea. I couldn't help but think how interesting her hair color was.”

Dean's eyebrow raised as Dave replaced the photo, cocking his head slightly. “She ordered tea?”

“Large house blend, straight. She sat outside with the other two at one of the tables. When the accident happened, they took off.” Dave folded his hands on the table, glancing at both men. “After seeing an accident like that though, I wouldn't blame them for taking off.”

Dean's eyes shifted to the other photos, sitting forward slightly. “Have you seen any of the others? Maybe around town or something?”

The young man thought for a moment, an odd look clouding his face. “Well...”

“What?” Sam's question was quick as Dave examined the photos more closely.

“It's strange,” Dave muttered.

Dean looked toward Sam as Dave stared at the photos. “Strange how?”

“I could swear I've seen these girls around.” The young man stared at the subjects in the photographs, motioning toward the whole lineup. “But its not, like, 'see them' see them. More like there one minute and gone the next.”

The pair sat quietly as Dave went from photo to photo carefully.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were ghosts or something,” Dave joked.

Sam and Dean gave a small laugh as Dave gathered up the photos and handed them back. They both wished it was a ghost but there was no such luck. They had crossed that option off their list even before they conducted the first interview.

The small notebook disappeared into Sam's jacket pocket followed by the pictures as Dave once more focused on Dean. “Do you think those women have something to do with Marc's disappearance?”

Dean gave a small shake of his head as he got to his feet. “We're just looking at every angle.”

Sam rose and gave Dave a small nod. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Quarles. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch.”

“No problem.” Dave's eyes traveled to Dean as he grinned. “Come back any time you want. Maybe next time, I can give you something more.”

Dean paled and headed for the door with Sam not far behind, his pace a little fast.

Sam's smile returned as he stepped outside, his eyes falling on his brother. It took two quick steps to catch up with the shorter man as they headed toward the small lot down the street. He was silent for a moment as they walked before he lost the battle with his willpower, finally clearing his throat.

“I think he liked you.”

“Shut up, Sam.” The words were little more than a growl as Dean made his way along the sidewalk. “Just shut up.”

The smile turned into a smirk as Sam fished the notebook out of his pocket. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“I swear to God, Sam, I will shoot you.” Dean glared at Sam, motioning to their surroundings. “In front of all these people, I will shoot you if you keep it up.”

Sam held up a hand and waited for Dean to continue walking before he spoke. “So it looks like we have someone else to talk to. You think she'll be as helpful as the others?”

“The way Dave described her, I doubt it,” Dean muttered. His eyes moved down the street as he unbuttoned his jacket . “I want to find out about that explosion we heard. I really don't trust the whole gossip mill here so that's something else to look into.”

“When we get back to the motel, I'll see what I can find on that Kimberly woman Dave mentioned,” Sam commented, his eyes skimming the list in his notebook.

“Can't really cross anything off the list yet, Sam.” Dean caught Sam flip through his notes as they walked past the florist. “As annoying as that is.”

“Not crossing anything off, just looking at what we have so far,” Sam muttered.

Dean looked forward, raising an eyebrow as a woman with her face cast downward skittered past him. “Well, we know they can change how old they look. And then there's the name Nona.”

“People have seen them face to face. Quarles back there, Ballard's wife, course there is Ballard's daughter,” Sam added looking through the pages.

“Which I still don't get. I mean why is the one hanging around the kid?” Dean questioned.

Sam gave a small shrug, glancing up at the people on the street as the notebook flipped closed. “Maybe there's a connection to the girl somehow.”

“Well that seems disturbing.”

Sam nodded his agreement as they walked, slipping the book into his pocket. “And they don't always travel in threes. I saw the blonde at the library alone so that means they're independent of each other outside of the deaths.”

“And, surprisingly, knowing all this still gets us nowhere.” Dean looked toward Sam briefly as they walked. “Somehow, I'm not shocked with that fact.”

Sam was silent as they continued down the street, Dean smiling as a shapely young brunette walked past them.

“Wish we knew what about Mayberry brought those three here in the first place,” Dean murmured.

Sam paused, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe we're looking at this wrong.”

Dean turned as Sam dug the notebook back from his pocket. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe we're looking at these three wrong.” Sam flipped through the pages, stopping on the list. “We've been looking at them like they chose to be here. Maybe its not that at all.”

“You mean like maybe they were drawn here?” Dean questioned.

Sam glanced toward his brother for a moment. “Or summoned here.”

Dean cocked his eyebrow at the suggestion, laughing softly. “Oh yeah. I'm loving this job.”

Sam's eyes skimmed the list as he mentally checked off a few options. “I mean think about it. There is nothing in this town's history to suggest they've been here before now. That doesn't really point to them calling this place a vacation spot.”

“So maybe someone in this place summoned them?” Dean looked around, lowering his voice as an elderly woman walked past. “Do you really think someone here went dark-side and summoned up the twisted trio?”

“It would explain why they showed up here like they did,” Sam replied.

Dean's jaw set as he ran his hand over his face. “Okay, so the list of maybes does go down if that's the case.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked at the pages, frowning. “But if they're summoned then that makes it a little harder.”

Dean nodded, rolling his head on his shoulders. “Find the one calling the shots and stopping them on top of stopping those things. Fun times.”

Sam wasn't anymore pleased with that option than Dean was.

A summoned creature made for a more dangerous job in their line of work. Whatever the three women were, summoning would have put a leash on them. Whoever summoned them would have control of them and could use them how they saw fit. Generally speaking that usually meant they'd be used as a supernatural attack dog. Of course that also meant it put a big bulls-eye on the brother's heads if their FBI cover was blown.

“So if they're summoned, we're only looking at a handful of creatures,” Dean considered.

Sam nodded. “Demon, spirit, reaper, deva...a couple other things we've been up against before.”

Dean silently went over their previous encounters in his head, making a running tally in his mind of the supplies in the trunk.

“Then there's pagan god,” Sam added.

“Run that by me again,” Dean stated flatly.

Sam watched his brother's face as he repeated himself. “Pagan god.”

Dean was quiet at the words, pursing his lips briefly as he blinked. After a moment he nodded and cleared his throat. “That's what I thought you said.”

Sam sighed as Dean began to walk down the sidewalk once more, watching him turn and head back to him. “It's a valid possibility, Dean.”

The older man leveled his gaze at his brother, lowering his voice as he stopped in front of him. “Do you really think there is someone stupid enough to try trapping a pagan god in this town? Seriously, Sam. This place seems a little too vanilla for a pagan god round-up.”

“But it's not unheard of,” Sam replied.

Dean let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as a look of utter disbelief crossed his face. “You can't seriously be suggesting what I think you are.”

Sam frowned and closed his notes once more. He didn't like what he was suggesting either but, unfortunately, that was a distinct possibility. Someone in this sleepy little town was pushing their luck in the worst way imaginable.

“If that's true, then we're gonna have to sift through this whole town looking for one person with a death wish.” Dean considered his words for a moment, swallowing at the realization of it. “A very obvious death wish if they captured three of them. All the pagan gods we've dealt with so far haven't really been human friendly.”

“And we'd have to free them.” The words sounded like an after-thought from Sam's lips, adding a hint of unease to his brother's eyes. “No telling what would happen once they're free.”

Dean took an even breath as he gathered his thoughts. He knew exactly what could happen when a summoned creature was freed and he was sure Sam knew it too. Most times jobs like this ended painfully, especially for them.

“Well, this just keeps getting better,” Dean muttered as they continued down the sidewalk.

“Tell me about it.” Sam sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked beside Dean quietly before he stopped in his tracks, an annoyed look crossing his face. “Ya know, I don't believe this.”

Dean turned at the displeased tone that accompanied the words as a questioning expression clouded his face. “What?”

“This.” Annoyance turned to a frustrated huff. “We have never had this much trouble on a job before, Dean. At least not this way.”

Dean really couldn't argue with that. Every job they did before hadn't played out like this one was. True each one had its fair share of frustration but this one seemed to beat out the rest. On other jobs they could find what they needed with a little work and get on with the rest of the job. But this one was beyond frustrating; no matter how much they worked and dug they couldn't seem to pinpoint what they were up against. It made Dean yearn for a good old salt and burn.

“Have you heard anything back from Bobby?” he questioned.

Sam shook his head, taking an even breath. “Nothing yet.”

Dean's brow knit at the comment. “Nothing?”

“Nothing useful. I gave him a call before we went to talk to Mrs. Ballard and he just said that he was still looking,” Sam replied with a shake of his head.

Dean's left hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension that suddenly appeared.

“I'll keep looking when we get back to the hotel since we have a name.” Sam gave a small shrug as Dean glanced down the sidewalk. “Give Bobby another call and let him know about what we found.”

Dean's head cocked slightly, an odd look crossing his face. He stared down the sidewalk quietly for a moment before his eyebrows raised. The odd look faded into his usual determined expression as he turned to his brother. “I have a better research idea.”

It was Sam's turn to sport the odd look as Dean headed down the walk. “Where are you going?”

Dean headed along the shops until he reached the bookstore, stopping to look through the window as Sam caught up.

“The bookstore, Dean?” Sam glanced toward the window display for some author he never really heard of. “This is your better idea?”

“You think I'm talking about picking the brain of the town's one, and probably only, Emo kid, Sammy?” Dean glanced over his shoulder at his brother, giving him a mockingly hurt look. “Have a little faith in me, dude.”

Sam huffed, looking at the older man. “Then why are we at the bookstore?”

“Hand me those photos you made up for the interviews,” Dean requested, holding out a hand.

“You're gonna question the bookstore staff?” Sam pulled the photos from his pocket and put them in the outstretched hand. “Bit of a long shot, don't ya think?”

Dean pulled out the photo of the young women, taking a long look at it before he looked once more through the window. “This isn't a long shot, Sam.”

Sam's eyes moved from the book display to the gap Dean was looking through. He straightened and his jaw set, shaking his head. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Just beyond the glass, staring at the shelves of books, stood the blonde he had seen in the library. She didn't look out of place as she walked along the shelves toward the back of the store, passing the couple townspeople inside. She would pause to look at the titles, tucking her hands behind her back, before she'd move on.

“Thought she looked familiar,” Dean muttered as he handed the photo back.

Sam continued to watch her through the store window, seeing her smile as a mother and child walked past. “What is she doing in there?”

“Who knows what she's up to. Maybe she's looking for a good book to read the next time they head to the coffee shop.” Dean glanced down the street before he reached for the gun he kept beneath his jacket. “But what I can tell you is that we have a chance to grab one of these things.”

Sam's brown eyes moved to the gun, doing his own look around as his voice dropped. “Public area, Dean. I don't think pulling out your gun is a good idea here.”

“We're FBI, Sammy. Flash the badge, yell a little “federal agents” and suddenly pulling a gun isn't so bad,” Dean explained with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean checked his clip, shaking his head. “So your idea is to go in there and grab her, possibly even shoot her in front of who knows how many people?”

Dean secured the clip back into this gun, tucking it back into his jacket. “No.”

“Then how, Dean? She pulled a vanishing act back at the library. Who says she won't do it again?” Sam questioned. He pointed toward the gun inside his brother's jacket, his head cocking slightly. “We don't even know if bullets will do anything.”

“You said she ran before she vanished in the library, right?” Dean watched Sam nod, motioning toward the store with a quick turn of his head. “Maybe she won't run so quick if she's surrounded.”

“And the gun?”

Dean smoothed his jacket down and made sure the .45 inside was well hidden. “Precaution.” He looked up at Sam's questioning expression, adjusting his own tie as Sam watched. “A lot of those maybes on that list have one thing in common weakness wise: iron. So a clip of consecrated iron rounds is going to either slow her down or piss her off. I'm hoping it slows her down myself.”

Sam watched with a look of unamused annoyance as Dean headed into the store, huffing slightly as he followed.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust as they entered the store, the small bell on the door heralding their arrival.

The store was well lit, its tall shelves stretching back toward the rear of the building. It felt invitingly warm, the smell of ink and paper creating an odd perfume in the air. The faint strains of piano music played as people looked over titles and flipped through pages of books they were interested in, none of them paying the pair any mind as they passed by.

Sam and Dean scanned the aisles as they casually walked toward the back of the store. The quick glances along the rows yielded little more than a few normal patrons here and there. The further they moved toward the back of the store, the fewer the patrons became until the aisles were empty.

They continued on toward the back, quietly checking each row they passed. A hint of doubt began to surface as they got closer to the back of the building, Dean's eyes shifting briefly toward Sam as they went. After the vanishing act Sam had mentioned Dean was beginning to wonder if she hadn't pulled another on them.

Dean's eyes traveled along the aisle to his right, the doubt that had surfaced quickly fading as he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. He walked past the shelves as the young woman knelt down to look at the books and into the next aisle over, Sam following quietly. He motioned silently to the previous row as he double checked his gun, giving Sam the signal to surround the young woman before heading to the far end of the aisle.

Sam doubled back, his eyes on the reading woman kneeling on the carpeted floor.

Just like in the library, she was going over each book she could find on the shelf. But unlike the library, she wasn't making a pile on the floor of what she had finished. She scanned the pages of each book carefully before she replaced it on the shelf, her pace not as frantic as Sam had seen at the library. She seemed almost relaxed in her search here.

Sam's eyes moved from the woman to the figure of his brother as he stepped into the aisle, catching Dean's small nod as they slowly walked toward each other.

His attention moved back to the woman on the floor as he walked closer.

Something about her was different than the last time. It was a subtle feeling Sam got watching her, something that seemed to become more tangible the closer he got. This wasn't the same woman from the library. There wasn't the same fire in her eyes.

The pair stopped on either side of her, Dean watching her skim through the book in her hands. “Hello, Nona.”

The young woman's head rose slowly at the name, her blue eyes resting on Dean. She closed the book in her hands and placed it back on the shelf as he kept her eyes on Dean. She didn't say a word as she rose to her feet in a single fluid motion, her eyes locked on the man to her left.

“Federal agents.” Dean's voice was even as he kept an eye on her, looking for any tell-tale sign she'd bolt. “We'd like to ask you a couple questions.”

Nona's eyebrow rose as she shot Sam a glance over her shoulder.

For the briefest moment, when her gaze moved his way, Sam saw exhaustion framed in the blue eyes. It was fleeting but he could see it mirrored in the woman's movements as she slowly stepped away from the shelves.

“Federal agents.” She pursed her lips and gave Dean an almost appreciative once over, nodding slowly. “Funny. That's not what I would have pegged you as.”

The words, said so calmly with such a sweet sounding voice, made both men uneasy.

Dean kept his composure as he watched the young woman push her hair back from her face. “Oh really?”

A smile pulled at her lips as she sized Sam up, her attention moving back to Dean. “Yeah. You're definitely not federal agents. But you pull it off enough to pass.”

Sam swallowed at the comment as Dean's jaw set, both watching her as calmly as they could.

“If you don't think we're Feds, then what do you think we are?” Dean questioned, keeping his eyes on her.

Nona turned a bit, her right hand rolling at her side. Her head cocked slightly as she looked at Sam then back to Dean. Her shoulders straightened and her hand clenched into a fist, her voice almost a tired sigh. “You're hunters.”

The words hit the boys like a punch to the gut, the woman taking a quick step backward as her right arm quickly pulled up to her chest. “I'm sorry, boys.”

Dean's eyes caught a shimmer in the air before he saw Sam fly forward, the young woman sinking to her knees as the lanky body sailed close. A second shimmer appeared as her left hand shot out to make a fist, Dean's face clouding. Green met piercing blue as he felt a pull in his chest and his feet left the ground, his body crashing into Sam's in mid-air.

She took off running before they hit the floor, making for the back door and a quick exit.

Dean groaned as he pushed himself up, feeling the beginnings of bruises that a couple days would bring. “Son of a bitch.”

“She's heading for the back,” Sam nodded down the aisle as he stood.

Dean took off after her, spotting the blonde hair as she darted toward the backroom. He pushed himself and reached for his gun, following as she burst past the 'employees only' sign with Sam close behind him. There was no way in hell he was going to let her get away.

She lead them outside, following the only path she could find away from the store. Her slight frame dodged the store debris and disguarded boxes as the blue eyes looked for a way out. Her head would turn slightly as she ran to gauge the closeness of her pursuers but she showed no signs of giving up.

The chase ground to a halt as she came face to face with the locked gate the various Main St. shops used to keep their dumpsters private.

She stared at the fence as she fought to catch her breath, shaking her head with a frustrated sigh. “Damn it.”

The sound of footsteps behind her made Nona concede defeat as she slowly turned, leveling her gaze on the two hunters. Her eyes scanned each of them, straightening as they drew closer. This was the end, there was no way out and fighting wouldn't help at all; she knew it.

Her hand raised to push her hair behind her ear, the sudden flash of Dean's .45 catching her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

“You shot me!”

It wasn't the usual comment they heard on a hunt. Normally there were more angered roars than coherent, albeit pissy, conversation. But this really wasn't their usual hunt. The blonde holding her shoulder and glaring at Dean was clear proof of that.

“You. Shot. Me.” She spat, clutching her shoulder. “What the hell!”

Dean stared at the slender body kneeling on the ground in front of them, blinking in confusion. This was so against the norm for them. He wasn't even really sure what, if anything, he should say. He glanced briefly toward Sam, his brow knitting in confusion.

Sam wasn't any clearer on this whole situation than his brother was, staring at the blonde as a strange expression clouded his face. Like his brother, he wasn't exactly sure when or even how things had turned this way. And it wasn't as if he hadn't tried to figure it out. He had even retraced their steps to no avail.

It had all started out so simple; see the thing, chase the thing, catch the thing. Cut and dry kind of deal. After Dean had called her name in the store, nothing seemed right. The woman had appeared exhausted but she was with it enough to call them out as hunters almost instantly. She had thrown them, somehow, but had apologized before it happened. Her running had been expected but why she hadn't pulled a vanishing act like she did at the library was beyond Sam. And when the chase ended, they had come face to face with an exhausted looking young woman. It wasn't until Dean shot her that exhausted gave way to angry and belligerent.

“You trigger happy little fuck!” The blue eyes shot daggers at Dean as the woman tried to get to her feet. “Do you even know what a safety is?”

“Excuse me?” The look on Dean's face changed from confused to taken back as he and Sam watched the woman before them.

“Safety. On a gun. Anyone teach you how to use one or have you just not figured out what that is yet?” Urd nodded toward Dean's drawn gun, her tone calm. “Or is there no greater thrill for you than shooting first and asking questions later? Seriously.”

Dean glared at the comment, raising his gun on her once more. “Oh, that's it. I'll show you safety, bitch.”

“Dean.” Sam grabbed his brother's hand, keeping his eyes on the now wounded woman. “Don't.”

“Nice to see at least one of you has some bit of control.” Urd's lips pulled into an almost relieved looking smile as she looked toward Sam. “Why couldn't you be the one with the gun instead of him? Then I wouldn't be bleeding in an alley.” She paused, taking a pained breath before she looked back toward Dean. “You little fuck.”

Sam straightened, his eyes moving to Dean as he pursed his lips slightly. “Not exactly the way our chases usually end.”

“Gee, Sam, ya think?” Dean muttered flatly.

“If I pass out from blood loss, I'm making it my personal mission to kick your damn ass when I come to, buddy.” The young woman groaned and examined her shoulder, her bloody hand pulling away slowly. “Damn it.”

The wound burned, the pain shooting along her arm like a thousand knives stabbing her at once. Every tiny move she made, even just moving her fingers, caused a pain that almost took her breath away and threatened to bring her back to her knees. She could feel the bullet in her shoulder, the slug resting just beneath her clavicle and probably against a bone with the way it was hurting her. Between the blood soaking into her shirt and trickling through her fingers to the near blinding pain, she was surprised she hadn't passed out yet.

“Nona?” Sam questioned.

Urd cringed at the name, one of many she carried through the centuries, but looked up just the same.

“Aww. They grow up so fast,” Dean smirked, keeping his gun on the woman. “I gotta tell ya, you don't look as creepy this way.”

Urd rolled her eyes with a huff, instantly regretting that action. “Boy, aren't you just a charmer.”

Dean responded to the sarcasm with one of his usual cocky grins. “Don't you know it, sister.”

Sam watched her face cloud as she clutched her shoulder. Something seemed off with her.

The way she grabbed at the wounded shoulder and held it, her face darkening each time her fingers moved; she was in real pain. Her motions were halted, even her attempt to stand was shaky. Personal experience gave him a good idea about the pain of a wound like that but watching her didn't seem to match that knowledge. It looked like Dean's iron round had some effect on her.

Urd closed her eyes, her teeth raking across her bottom lip. “As much as I'm enjoying the banter, can we just get to the part where we go our separate ways so I can go bleed in peace somewhere more comfortable?”

Dean chuckled as Sam remained silent beside him, both of them on guard. “Oh, you're funny. We've been chasing your ass around this town since we got here. You really think we're just gonna let you walk off into the sunset, sweetheart?”

Urd sighed, her breath catching as she sank to her knees once more. “A girl can dream.”

Sam took an even breath as she settled down on the concrete, the red staining her white blouse beginning a slow path down her left arm. “Nona...”

“God, I hate that name,” she mumbled, her shoulders sinking as her blue eyes closed. “Stupid Romans. They never were good with names at all.”

Dean gave Sam a questioning look, resting his finger against the trigger guard.

“What are you doing in this town?” Sam continued.

The sarcasm was still thick when she spoke even though the edge was gone from her voice. “Bleeding in an alley. I thought that was well established at this point.”

Sam shook his head at the answer.

She was just as sarcastic as Dean was. He could already see how bad questioning her was going to turn out. They would be lucky if they got anything useful out of her. Then there was the possibility of Dean shooting her again if she got on his nerves too much. But it would give Dean a taste of what his smart-ass comments put Sam through on a daily basis. Maybe it wouldn't be all bad but it would be bad enough.

“Where are your friends?” Dean questioned.

She looked up at the question, her eyes standing out against her now paler skin. “Around.”

The two caught the venom in her voice with the word, both straightening slightly as she bowed her head. Sarcasm aside, there was something about her in that instant that made both men pause. The conviction in her words sent a chill through each of them that they couldn't deny.

“You're going to have to be a lot nicer to me if you want to find out about them,” she muttered, watching the blood slowly run down her elbow. “Like bribing me nicer. I'll take money and sexual favors to start and we can go from there.”

Dean was the one to shake his head this time as Sam lowered his voice.

“We gotta get her out of here before someone comes back and sees this.” He motioned to the locked gate and the drive beyond. “We can pick the lock and easily get her into the car without anyone seeing her if you bring it around.”

Dean thought for a moment, slowly nodding. He knew someone in one of the shops had no doubt heard the gunshot; brick walls weren't exactly soundproof. He also wasn't in the mood to drag a bleeding smart-ass woman down a busy sidewalk and have to explain why she was bleeding in the first place.

“Okay. Here.” Dean fished around in his jacket pockets, pulling out a pair of cuffs along with his keys. “I don't want her doing what ever she did in the store again.”

Urd cocked her head as the cuffs were passed off. “Normally I ask for dinner and a movie before the cuffs come out but I can see you're a special kind of kink so I'll let it slide this time.” An innocent smile crossed her lips as the brothers looked her way. “But next time I'm going to have to insist on at least dinner.”

Sam sighed as he walked toward the young woman still on the concrete. He pulled off his tie and knelt down beside her, cuffing her left hand before gently bringing it toward her shoulder. He pressed the tie against her wound and cuffed her other hand, getting a genuine smile from her.

“Hold this tight against it. It will help a little,” he instructed.

“What kind of slug is this?” She groaned as the cloth was pressed against her shoulder. “What's it made of?”

Sam cringed, watching the blood seep from the wound as she pressed the tie against her shoulder. “Consecrated iron.”

“Lovely. So you really are trying to kill me.” Urd's eyes moved to the tie in her hand, giving the dark blue fabric a squeeze. “Good to know.”

The pair looked up at the rattle of the chain link fence Dean was working on, Urd swallowing.

This was not her day. First that damned job had drained her to almost nonexistent energy levels. Her attempt at some research had been drastically cut short by these two and her escape attempt, though a good try, had zapped what little remained of her energy. Now she was sitting on cold concrete with an iron slug in her shoulder and handcuffs on her wrists. It wasn't a good day and it wasn't looking like it would get any better for her.

Sam slowly helped her up, being careful not to put strain on her wounded shoulder. “Easy.”

Urd couldn't help the muffled groan that escaped her, finding herself leaning against the young man at her side. The motion of standing up, even with help, had sent a searing pain shooting through her arm and across her shoulders that she had never felt before. It made every nerve in her body practically scream and her eyes nearly roll back into her head.

“You shoot me then you cuff me.” She watched Dean work on the padlock, her shoulder throbbing beneath her hand and sarcasm heavily lacing the pain in her voice. “What's next? Break my kneecaps and ask me to run?”

The padlock popped open, a triumphant look on Dean's face as he pulled the lock free. He pushed the gate open and stepped through, checking to see they were still alone before motioning them to follow. “Oh believe me, sweetheart, that's not what I'm tempted to do with you right now.”

Sam led her through the gate and over to a yellow concrete barrier beside the fence, going back to Dean once she was seated. “That wound will have to be sewn up when we get her back to the hotel.”

The padlock clicked back into place with a little wrangling from the fence's other side, Dean dusting his hands off as he turned. “Guess my hunch about iron was right.”

“I'd say.” Sam's eyes moved toward the woman as she stared at a bug near her foot. “It definitely did something.”

“Stay here with her while I get the car.” Dean took off down the drive, turning back briefly. “And watch out for the throwing thing.”

Sam watched Dean disappear around a corner before he turned to the woman still staring at her feet.

“I can't.”

His brow knit at the small sounding voice, turning his gaze toward her downcast face. “What?”

“I can't throw you again. Not even if I tried,” she muttered softly. She sighed, watching the beetle at her feet crawl over a chunk of cement. “That little bug has more power than me right now. Sad as it is.”

The comment gave Sam pause as she fidgeted and tried to scratch her nose, still holding the bunched up tie to her wound.

“You ever notice how much you itch when you can't really reach it?” she questioned absently.

He watched her quietly for a moment before he finally asked the question on his mind. “What are you?”

She looked up at her babysitter, the exhaustion and pain clear in her blue eyes. Even though her eyes were clouded with so much her face was oddly serene, her tone matter of fact. “I am all that ever was.”

~*~

The young woman looked around the small cabin as Sam carefully examined her shoulder, humming softly to herself.

She couldn't do much of anything with the bindings securing her to the chair except to look around. As soon as they got her to the hotel, Dean had sat her down in an old wooden kitchen chair, tied her up and went to clean the blood from the backseat. That had left her with Sam, the small distraction of being tended to garnering her attention for a moment. After that she had let her eyes wander.

“This will have to do until I can get our kit out of the trunk. Hotel first aid kits don't really cover bullet removal,” Sam commented, pressing a gauze pad to her now exposed shoulder.

“Most wouldn't,” Urd muttered. She groaned at the pressure on her shoulder, closing her eyes. “At least not in this country.”

“Sorry.” Sam examined the wound, replacing the pad as he reached for the bottle of peroxide he had found in his duffel. “Not really the best doctor in town.”

“Ya make due with what ya got.” Urd's eyes opened slowly as she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I owe you a new tie. And your brother owes me a new shirt.”

Sam looked up at the sound of the door behind him as Urd began humming what sounded like a Led Zeppelin song.

“The backseat is cleaned up so we don't have to worry about anyone seeing the blood inside,” Dean stated as he came in, locking the door behind him. “How's the prisoner?”

“Still bleeding. Thanks for asking,” Urd blurted out as she looked his way.

Dean ignored the comment and tossed his brother a small black bag before heading for the laptop on the table.

“If I'm a prisoner, do I get a phone call?” she questioned calmly.

Dean chuckled as he sat down, opening the computer. “No.”

“You're not a good captor, ya know that?” Urd muttered, watching Sam pull what he needed from the black bag.

“Don't care.” He watched the home screen come up, pulling his tie and coat off. “You haven't called Bobby yet, have you?”

Urd's humming stopped at the name Bobby, her eyes zeroing in on Dean.

“Not yet. Wanted to try stopping the bleeding and patching her up before I called him. Unless you want to explain a blood stain on the carpet,” Sam replied calmly.

“Not really.”

Urd kept her eyes on Dean as the young man grabbed his cellphone, watching him like a hawk. She squinted slightly and cocked her head as she examined him a moment longer. A look of realization crossed her face and her gaze finally shifted to Sam at her shoulder.

Dean caught the odd behavior but shrugged it off as he scrolled through the contact list on his phone and dialed Bobby.

Two rings and the gruff voice answered with the usual “friendly” greeting they got when calling. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Bobby.” Dean sat back, glancing toward the captive woman. “How's the research going?”

“Slow.” The older man's voice was even as he spoke, Dean clearly seeing Bobby's ever present scowl in his mind. “You calling to check up on me, boy?”

“Nope. Just calling with news,” Dean answered.

There was a pause on the line before Bobby spoke again. “News?”

“We got a name talking to a woman in town.” Dean's eyes shifted to the blonde, giving her a grin when she looked his way. “The blonde goes by the name Nona.”

“Nona?” Dean could hear what he thought was a hint of surprise in the man's voice at the name. “You sure?”

“Yup.” He watched the young woman examine Sam's medical skills, thankful she wasn't talking for once. “We can't get the other names from her though.”

“What are you talking about?”

Dean looked at the computer screen, pulling up a search browser. “We managed to catch little miss Nona. But only after she managed to blow something up with her two friends.”

Bobby was beginning to sound a little on edge, Dean's ears picking up the slight change in the older man's voice. “You caught her?”

“Yeah. We spotted her in a local bookstore.” Dean typed the name Nona into the browser, stopping short of hitting enter when he heard a quick hiss come from the woman. “She literally threw us without touching us before we caught her though.”

“So she's there right now?” Bobby questioned.

Dean tapped the enter key before he got up to take a closer look at Sam's patient. “Yup. Sam is just patching her up.”

The edge in Bobby's voice became clearly evident to Dean's ears, the tone one he had heard before with their dad. “Patching her up?”

Dean suddenly felt like he was ten again. “We chased her into an alley and she looked like she was going to do something to us again so I shot her.”

“You shot her!?”

Now Dean really felt like a child as both Sam and the young woman looked at him. He hadn't realized how loud Bobby's reply had been until the two sets of eyes landed on him.

“Ooo. You're in trouble,” Urd grinned.

“I wasn't going to have her throw us again. Or worse,” Dean defended.

Urd settled into her chair as Sam began to prepare her shoulder to remove the bullet. “I wasn't going to throw you, Winchester. I was pushing my hair back.”

Dean was about to say something back to her when he froze, eying her suspiciously. “How did you know my last name?”

Her reply was a knowing smile, her gaze moving toward the cellphone.

“Dean? You still there?”

Dean cleared his throat and returned to the phone. “Yeah, I'm still here.”

“Put the phone next to her ear, boy,” Bobby said.

The request threw Dean for a loop, his brow knitting. “What?”

“I didn't stutter. Put the phone by her ear,” the older man repeated. “I wanna ask her something.”

The confusion on Dean's face never ebbed as he placed the phone against the young woman's ear, Sam giving him a questioning look. His only reply was a shrug to his younger brother.

Urd stayed quiet as it was placed at her ear, finally clearing her throat. She took an even breath, pushing her cheek into the phone. “Hello?”

They couldn't hear what was said but noticed their captive smile as she straightened. “What do you ask of Fated Past?”

The blue eyes moved from Sam to Dean and she nodded, her smile lighting her eyes. “Well, Sam is. Dean is another story.” She paused, pursing her lips for a moment. “In the shoulder. Consecrated iron.” Another pause. “I apologized before I pulled the strings. Fight or flight and you know I don't like the former when I can avoid it. Just didn't know Dean was trigger happy.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at the one-sided conversation and returned to his work.

“Yes.” She paused, looking at Dean. “He wants to talk to you.”

Dean's face fell as he brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Untie her,” Bobby ordered. “And don't aim your gun at her. She will hurt you if you do.”

“Untie her?” Dean caught himself before he ended up yelling into the phone. “She's killed people, Bobby.”

Urd sighed, shaking her head. “Against my will.”

“She ain't the bad guy, ya idjit,” Bobby shot back.

Dean stared at the young woman and got a serene smile in return. “She's not?”

“Listen to the Bobby for he is wise,” Urd commented. She grinned wide as Sam stitched up her wound. “Him and his trucker hats.”

“I know her, Dean. Hell, she's helped me more times than I can count. She ain't the bad guy,” Bobby explained.

Dean couldn't hide the surprise in is voice. “You know her?”

Sam coughed in surprise, nearly dropping the needle in his hand. “What?”

“I knew him before your dad did,” she proudly stated. “Known Bobby for years.”

Both men watched her quietly as she sat there grinning.

“Urd can be trusted,” Bobby chimed in Dean's ear.

“Stop arguing with the man and untie me,” she interrupted, huffing. “My nose itches.”

“I thought her name was Nona?” Dean questioned.

“That's one name she goes by,” Bobby answered. “Take my advice, boy, and untie her before she gets annoyed and pulls your strings again. If you boys are nice to her, she'll talk to you. But you haven't exactly gotten on her good side by shooting her.”

“Thanks for the news flash on that one.” Dean huffed as he looked at the blonde. “She's been running her mouth since I shot her.”

Bobby laughed at the comment, Dean not feeling any better at the sound. “She does that. You'll learn quick with her.”

Dean hung up with a roll of his eyes, his gaze shifting to the young woman in the chair.

Sam finished, cleaning up as he packed their kit up. “So he knows her?”

“Looks like it. Said she's helped him out before,” Dean muttered.

Urd remained quiet as the boys talked, her eyes moving back and forth between them.

“I guess that would explain why Bobby didn't say anything when I called him before.” Sam stood, tossing the black kit on the couch. “What were you saying about her name?”

Dean rolled the cellphone over in his hand, nodding toward their guest. “Bobby called her Urd not Nona.”

“Because Urd is my name.” She leveled her gaze at the pair, sighing. “Can we get on with the untying? I'm starting to get a cramp.”

“I still don't trust you,” Dean stated.

“And I don't trust you with a gun. I guess that makes us even,” she shot back.

Sam brought the pending argument to a halt with a yell, both sets of eyes on him. “That's enough. Both of you.”

The pair stared at Sam quietly like two kids who just got caught stealing candy.

“I know you don't trust her, Dean, and I don't blame you. But Bobby does and he's never steered us wrong before,” Sam offered.

Dean thought for a moment, eying her suspiciously. “I want to know what she is first.”

“Past,” Urd muttered. She took an even breath, her head cocking slightly. “You could just ask.”

“Fair enough. “ Sam turned to Urd, pointing toward the ropes. “You aren't going to throw us again if we untie you, are you?”

Urd shook her head with a heavy sigh. “Not unless you shoot me again.”

Sam's eyes moved toward Dean and got a heavy, exasperated sigh in return. “That's fair enough.”

Dean headed to the sofa and sat down while Sam headed for the laptop. He glared at the woman across from him, crossing his arms over his chest. “How'd you do that anyway?”

Urd gave him a smile. “I pulled your string.”

His glare continued as Sam sat down and slid his finger across the touch-pad to wake the machine. “Whatever that means.”

“You're just a ray of sunshine, ya know that?” she mumbled.

Sam studied the computer screen quietly for a moment, his jaw setting. “Dean.”

The other man got to his feet and made his way toward his brother. “Did the name come up?”

Sam nodded, looking at the screen. “You could say that.”

Urd watched the pair quietly as she sat in her bindings.

“Nona: The Fate who spins the thread of life; counterpart of Greek Clotho,” Dean read aloud. He glanced over his shoulder briefly then continued. “Companion sister to Decima and Morta. She, along with her sisters, formed the Parcae/ Moirae.”

“The Fates.” Sam stared at the words on the screen, taking a deep breath. “The three beings who control the destiny of gods and men.”

Urd sighed as the two looked her way. “I told you I pulled your strings.”

“And you're Bobby's friend?” Sam questioned.

She replied with a nod.

“And you befriended the little girl?” he questioned again.

She gave another nod. “But I gave her an easier name to say. Ironically, its the same name I utterly hate but oh well.”

“So we're dealing with the Fates? The actual, weavers of destiny Fates,” Dean muttered.

Urd took a deep breath. “Yes, you are.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dean motioned to the young woman in the chair. “Bobby knows an actual Fate?”

“Yes,” Urd chimed in. Her smile fell a tiny bit as Dean glared at her, her brow knitting in confusion. “You asked, I answered.”

Sam looked at the screen, nodding slowly as he opened a link. “Looks like it.”

Dean's green eyes traveled to their guest, his tone serious. “How do we kill her?”

Urd shook her head. “You can't.”

“She's right, Dean.” Sam turned in his chair, glancing toward Urd. “You can't kill Fate.”

“But you can wound us with iron rounds. Just look at my shoulder,” Urd muttered dryly. “Way to go with that one, Dean.”

Sam got up and moved to Urd's chair, looking back at his brother. “We know what she is now. Deal was you find out what she is, she gets untied.”

Dean rolled his eyes, throwing up his hands as he headed toward the motel table. “I still don't trust her, Sam.”

“Deal is a deal.” Sam looked down at Urd, getting a small nod from her before he moved behind her chair. “We aren't going to leave her tied up.”

“Can we get a gag for her then?”

Sam worked the knots that held her back against the chair, speaking to her calmly as he freed her. “So the other two?”

“My sisters. Personally, I'm glad I was shot and not them.” She glanced toward Dean, an edge to her voice. “Verdandi would have kicked your ass.”

Dean slid into Sam's vacated seat and looked over the computer screen. “Nice name.”

Sam pulled the ropes at her hands loose before stepping back to give her room. “The names you use, those are Norse.”

Urd rubbed her wrists gently but didn't get up, settling into the chair. “You humans, as a whole, have always been interesting to us. Annoying when it comes to names but still interesting. You call us gods, marveling at our abilities, and put us on pedestals with strange names. All except your Norse.”

Dean glanced up from the computer screen briefly as Sam listened almost intently to the woman.

“True they gave us odd names but they didn't put us on a pedestal like others. We weren't some “never tarnished, golden glowing” goddesses. We get rough, we get dirty, and they knew that.” Urd grinned at the young man, her voice lowering. “We liked the Norse.”

An amazed look crossed Sam's face as he quickly shot Dean a glance before looking back at her. “You're pretty much a walking witness to history?”

“Bobby calls me his historical expert,” Urd explained. She folded her hands in her lap, looking kindly at the man. “Helps when you've seen what I have.”

The boys were silent as she watched them, each one looking as though they were weighing her words.

Urd recognized the expression on their faces, she had seen it before with Bobby. True, it had been years but she still knew the look. Amazement mixed with confusion and utter disbelief clouded the handsome features. While Dean's face didn't show it, she caught the flash in his eyes that said otherwise.

“You're confused. Bobby was the same way.” Her voice was calm as she spoke, both men looking at her. “Most humans are when they come across us, especially the hunters.”

“We don't trust you,” Dean said evenly.

“After everything, that's fair enough because, buddy, I ain't trusting you not to shoot me again.” She rose from her chair, being careful of her shoulder. “But I'm not the bad guy, Dean.”

Dean said nothing but the look in his eyes was less than trustworthy.

Urd was silent for a moment as she looked around the cabin. She considered the current situation and the two men before her, shaking her head slightly. Her lips pursed as her eyes went back to the young men.

“I've tried since my sisters and myself came to this town to find a way out,” she stated. She straightened, taking an even breath. “I've reached the end of my ideas.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, Sam staring at her curiously. “What are you talking about?”

She walked over to the pair, the sarcasm that she had leveled toward Dean replaced by a seriousness that threw the hunters for a loop. “My last option was to call Bobby for help while avoiding you two. Didn't know you were his boys until you mentioned him.”

Sam looked down at the woman who now stood in front of him, confusion in his voice. “What are you saying?”

“I'll tell you everything I know, answer any question you have. But there is a condition,” Urd replied.

Dean's eyes narrowed at the word “condition”, his arms crossing and his voice lowering as he glared. “What condition?”

Her expression was dead serious as she looked at Dean, carefully leaning over the table to look him in the eye. “You help us.”


	11. Chapter 11

You could have heard a pin drop in the motel room with how quiet the boys were, both staring at the woman as if she had suddenly grown a second head.

Urd didn't think her “condition” was that bad that it warranted the silent stares she was getting. She hadn't made an unreasonable request and she knew they had helped others before. True the others who asked hadn't exactly been gods but still. And it made more sense to her asking them for help than continue on her own only to eventually turn to Bobby when she hit a dead end.

Her brow knit as she looked from one to another, letting out a huff. “Someone blink or something.”

Sam shook himself back to reality, watching her carefully. “You want us to help you?”

“Is that really so hard to understand?” She gave a half shrug, frowning slightly. “I didn't think it was that hard. I said it in English too.”

Dean continued to glare, slowly getting to his feet. “Why do you need our help?”

Urd closed her eyes, pursing her lips. “Because we are trapped here.”

Dean's glare softened at the words. There was no sarcasm in the voice, no hidden animosity when she spoke. The only thing he heard was a hint of honest resignation hidden in the uttered phrase.

The blue eyes opened as she waited for some reply from either man, part of her unconsciously bracing for an incredulous and untrustworthy laugh. But nothing came. Even Dean, whom she figured would jump in with the whole trust argument, said nothing.

It was Sam who finally spoke up, much to her surprise. “Trapped how?”

Her sigh was heavy, the slight body turning away from them and stepping over to the dull oatmeal colored couch. “We can't cross over the township lines. Each of us had tried but we can't pass those boundaries.”

The two watched her drop down onto the couch more like some jaded teen or nap needing child than a goddess.

“We are trapped,” she stated flatly, slouching against the couch back. “Bound to this crap town like animals on a leash.”

Dean's trust of her was still low, watching her almost bonelessly sink into the pillows with a scowl. “You're a goddess and you're telling me you can't leave some backwater little town?”

“You catch on quick,” she mumbled.

Despite the sincerity of her earlier words, the bite of sarcasm returned as she slumped against the dull colored piece of furniture.

Her fingers tugged at a loose thread as both men watched her curiously.

“Just because we're goddesses doesn't mean we aren't without faults. We have weaknesses,” she admitted almost absently. “And some find that out.”

Sam cast a questioning glance toward his brother, unsure of what to say.

They had never been in a position like this before and he was pretty sure they wouldn't be again. All the hunts before had never ended with the thing they were after turning around and openly asking them for help, especially when the creature was a god in every sense of the word. True they had helped one or two of what they usually hunted but that had only been after they got a look at the situation. Of course none of those had turned out to be friends of their father-figure.

Dean's thoughts weren't any clearer than his brother's about this. His trust of her was almost non-existent even after Bobby vouched for her. After what they had seen at her hands, he was doubtful he'd ever trust her. But Bobby trusted her and, as much as she irked him so far, that fact couldn't be overlooked either.

Urd's gaze locked on the men in front of her, raising her hands up in a small shrug. “So are you going to help us or what?”

~*~

Verdandi sat watching the town square from her park bench, stifling a yawn as she stretched out.

The park wasn't the most exciting place to be but it was all there really was. Sitting around, looking for something to do was the only thing to do in the damn place. That fact annoyed her to no end.

She wasn't sure what her sisters did in their off time but hers was spent fighting boredom. Most days it was a loosing battle for her. You could only stare at the same scenery for so long and, by her calculations, had done that enough.

She groaned as the same red delivery van with a bad gear shift drove past her for the twentieth time, her head falling back against the bench. “This place is fucking killing me.”

She didn't bother looking up as the bench moved beside her, simply letting out a louder groan.

“You need a hobby,” Skuld muttered.

“I need a bar,” Verdandi mumbled. Her eyes opened on to the blue sky above, a heavy sigh rolling through her chest. “I need a bar, some beer and some billiards.”

Skuld glanced up from her book, frowning. “That's what you do?”

A roll of her spine and Verdandi was sitting upright. She twisted at the waist until she felt a familiar pop and settled back against the wooden boards. “It relaxes me.”

“So when we go our separate ways, you drink and hustle pool?” The way Skuld said it sounded like she was piecing together a murder mystery and not her sister's social life. “How is a smoky bar with cheap booze relaxing?”

“Helps me vent frustrations,” came the even reply. Verdandi let her gaze travel to her sister's book, raising an eyebrow. “A comic book?”

Skuld shook her head as she held out the thickly bound volume. “Graphic novel.”

A shake of the head and a roll of the eyes was her sister's reply, the subject thoroughly dropped. Verdandi may have been bored but not bored enough to get into a debate about her sister's choice in reading materials. Staring at the people going past was more exciting than any debate about reading habits she could ever be pulled into.

Verdandi blinked and ran a hand back through her hair, leaning back and hooking her arms against the bench. “Where's Urd?”

“She mentioned going to the bookstore after the gas station but that's the last I saw her.” Skuld marked her page with a finger, turning to her sister. “Why?”

The black-haired woman was silent as she looked across the park toward the clock on the town hall. Her fingers tapped against the wood, stopped, then started once more before stopping again. The sculpted face was unreadable and the piercing blue eyes cold, Verdandi finally pushing herself off the bench.

“Where are you going?” Skuld sounded almost scared to ask the question, moving to follow her sister. “Verdandi?”

“Gas station,” she replied over her shoulder. “Wanna check something out.”

A worried expression clouded Skuld's face as she jogged to catch her sister, clutching her book close. “Check what?”

Verdandi waved the question off, running across the park. “Just come on.”

“Bossy much?” Skuld mumbled.

They darted through the playground making a b-line for the gas station situated across from the town's tiny car dealership.

“You want to blow this one up to?” Skuld questioned as they stopped, looking around. “You could do a lot more damage than the last one.”

Verdandi huffed loudly and shot her sister an annoyed look. “It was a job, Skuld.”

“Bloodbath.” The word was little more than a murmur but the look Skuld got made her shrink back. “Shutting up now.”

“Good idea.” Verdandi shook her head disapprovingly and looked into the window. “I really don't want to have to punch you.”

Skuld's face fell and she threw her hands up. “You are so violent.”

Her sister's voice was an uninteresting and annoying buzz in Verdandi's ear as she looked in the store window. She was more interested in the employees inside than her younger sister's bitching. The bitching was normal and wouldn't get her anywhere anyway; it never did.

Her teeth raked her bottom lip while she scanned the people inside, tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete. She needed one particular human and so far she wasn't seeing him. Silently she hoped he was just in the back somewhere or her idea would be worthless.

Skuld peeked through the window, sniffing slightly. “Who are you looking for?”

“Car boy,” Verdandi answered.

Skuld's face scrunched up in confusion, looking at the patrons. “Who?”

“Some local kid, loves car magazines. I've seen him working here before.” Verdandi's lips pulled into a smile as she spotted a mess of dirty blonde hair behind the counter. “There he is.”

Skuld's eyes moved to the kid behind the counter, blinking in confusion. “Him?”

“Him,” Verdandi nodded.

Skuld cocked her head to the side as she watched the young man behind the counter. The more she looked at him, the less she understood her sister. The kid looked to be barely 17, if that, and seemed to be a little more than the standard preoccupied. Why Verdandi wanted to talk to him was a mystery.

“Sorry for asking but why?” Skuld paused, stepping away from the window. “Why him?”

Verdandi turned and reached up, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “You remember the day those hunters showed up, when Urd told us to watch out for that car they drove?”

Skuld answered with a nod.

“A '67 Chevy isn't exactly easy to overlook.” Verdandi tied her hair back, thumbing toward the store. “I wanna know if car boy saw it around.”

There was a pause as the younger watched her sister pull her hair taught, her fingers tapping against her book. “You think they've been around?”

Verdandi said nothing, instead turning toward the front door with Skuld close behind.

The door beeped as the pair entered, the air conditioning sending a pleasant chill along their skin. There was the smell of coffee and an odd mix of nachos, pizza and hot dogs in the air that was more unappealing than anything to both women. It was almost vomit inducing strong to Skuld while causing the first hints of a headache to appear in Verdandi. Even as they headed to the counter, both silently wondered how anyone could work in a place that could overpower them so easily.

Verdandi's hand shot out and grabbed a candy bar as they walked past a display, her lips curving into a seductive smile as she approached the register.

The kid, Eric according to his name-tag, was looking at a muscle car magazine when the two stopped in front of him, Verdandi tossing the pack of peanut butter cups down on the counter.

“Hi.” Verdandi gave him a smile as she looked up, catching him swallowing nervously. “Just the candy.”

He rang her up as she cast a casual glance toward his magazine. “That will be seventy-nine cents.”

She slid a dollar across the counter, nodding toward the open pages. “You a car buff?”

“Yeah.” He handed her change back with a nod. “I love classic cars.”

Skuld watched the ruse in silence, tapping her fingers against her book. She couldn't believe how easily her sister played the boy. She wasn't surprised by it but the ease was a little disturbing for someone who usually avoided contact with humans.

Verdandi smiled sweetly, leaning against the counter. “Then maybe you can help us. My sister and I are supposed to meet a couple friends but we haven't seen them around. Maybe you've seen them.”

The boy's expression darkened. “I'm not really good with faces.”

“I just need to know if you've seen their car. It's very distinctive.” She straightened, resting a hand on her hip. “You wouldn't be able to miss it.”

“I can try,” Eric replied.

Verdandi kept the innocent smile on her face, batting her eyes at the boy. “Its a cherry-looking, four-door black '67 Chevy Impala. Two guys would be driving it.”

The kid's face lit into a smile as he nodded. “Yeah. I've seen that car. Sweet ride.”

“Do you remember the last time you saw it?” she questioned.

“A couple hours ago, heading out of town. It was a little while after the explosion. But there were three people inside,” Eric replied.

Verdandi glanced toward Skuld, seeing her sister swallow nervously. “Are you sure you saw three people in the car?”

The young man nodded. “Saw three heads in the back window. The one in the backseat looked like a girl.”

Verdandi gave a slow nod, grabbing the candy off the counter. “Thanks.”

He nodded and returned to his magazine as the pair walked out quickly.

Skuld looked panicked as she followed her sister outside. All color had fled her face at the young man's words but she had done well not talking until they got outside. That wasn't to say outside she wouldn't freak out once they were clear of the doors. But she put on a good show of being calm in front of the kid.

The sound of the door closing behind them was joined almost instantly by Skuld whimpering as she lost what little self control she had.

Verdandi grabbed her sister by the arm, dragging her to the far side of the building for her breakdown.

“They got her,” Skuld whimpered, doubling over. She tried to calm her breathing down, which was steadily turning into a hyperventilation fit, sliding down the buildings cinder-block wall. “I can't breathe. Oh god, I can't breathe.”

Verdandi sighed heavily, unwrapping the peanut butter cups as she watched her sister's breakdown.

“Have to breathe,” she panted. She let her head fall back against the wall, sounding like she was in labor as she took small quick breaths. “Breathing is good.”

Before her sister could start her panicking anew, Verdandi silenced her with a whole peanut butter cup in her mouth.

Skuld flailed, coughing at the surprise intruder. Her eyes moved to her sister in a glare as she tried to chew the mouthful of candy. Unfortunately, chewing just made it worse.

“Okay. Looks like our problems just keep being added to. But we can handle this,” Verdandi said calmly. She rolled her hand absently and paced a small bit, her tone staying perfectly calm. “Remember Salem? We just have to think up a plan.”

Skuld rolled her eyes as she maneuvered the mass of candy off the roof of her mouth, letting out a muffled “what” as best she could.

Verdandi gave her a confused look, finally shaking her head. “That's right. We were trying to get you out of the jail. My bad.”

Her sister growled and tried to swallow some of the peanut butter mass.

“Hunters are probably gonna be a little more difficult than Puritans though,” Verdandi muttered.

The peanut butter ball was finally swallowed down with a cough, Skuld grimacing. “I hate peanut butter!”

“I know.” Verdandi thought for a moment, watching the long, almost dusk shadows stretch across the parking lot. “We have to keep this from Kim.”

“What part?” Skuld pulled herself up, smacking her lips in disgust. “The hunters or the missing sister?”

“Both.” Verdandi hated that answer but it was the only one at the moment. “For as long as we can.”

Skuld sighed heavily, tasting the peanut butter on her breath. “That won't be hard if she doesn't come up with another addition to her hit-list.”

The groan that escaped Verdandi was one of annoyance as she closed her eyes tight, her hand coming up to rub at the tension beginning to push at her brain.

“You know that won't happen,” Skuld muttered.

“Fuck.” The word was a growl as Verdandi clenched a fist and shook her head. “We are so screwed.”

~*~

After Urd's proposition and the following discussion between the brothers, Dean took off. He said he needed some air, which in Dean speak, meant a drive to clear his head and a couple drinks at a local bar. He hadn't stayed long after their talk and the retreating sound of the small block engine had left Sam alone with the source of Dean's contention.

Urd had settled, more or less, on the couch with one of Sam's books; looking through the pages quietly while he had staked his claim at the table turned research library. Occasionally she would make a comment about something in the pages that would get Sam's attention before returning to the book with a laugh. Her attention only wavered slightly when he moved at the room's small table.

Maybe it was because Dean wasn't here, Sam had mused to himself while glancing briefly toward Urd; maybe the quiet now was simply because Dean was out. It was obvious Urd held some animosity toward Dean for shooting her, which he really didn't blame her for, but it looked like she picked her battles to solely be with him. Most of all, it appeared that animosity didn't carry over to Sam. Patching her up probably went along with getting on her good side too.

While she busied herself with Sam's books, he busied himself on finding out about her. It hadn't taken long for Sam to fall into the usual research routine even with their unexpected guest in the same room. He was on a mission though; he wanted to know as much as he could about Bobby's friend before he started to question her.

He had lost himself in the research when the photos began coming up in his searches. Suddenly the handful of descriptions and written accounts he had come across paled, the theories he had read falling apart with a simple image. Sorting through each one only made him want to find more.

One photo gave way to another then another. The dates and places started to blur as the familiar faces caught his eye in each image he came across. Pennsylvania, 1863...London, 1940...France, 1918. The hotel room was quiet save for the soft click of the laptop keys and the almost constant hum of the portable printer as it kicked out yet another photograph.

The hum had become a relaxing white noise the more Sam searched online for their guest. He had lost himself in the search and almost comforting mechanical noise, the time passing by unnoticed. It didn't register with him; the growing shadows that stretched across the window or the orange-red glow that faded against the west facing curtains blending into the unnoticed background as he dug deeper. Time ticked by, the world beyond the laptop screen moving unnoticed to the young man.

He was studying the most recent find when he heard a young voice at his elbow, jumping at the sudden comment.

“I like music.”

Sam dropped the photo, coming face to face with Urd's child form. He caught himself staring at the small figure before his brain finally registered who he was looking at. “Urd?”

“I like music,” she repeated. She paused and thought, pouting slightly. “And books.”

Sam blinked, his brow knitting.

Urd held up the case notebook Sam had made, peering over the top innocently. “No one ever asks us these things. Most people make us sound like we float around on clouds or something.”

“I'm..uh..sorry?” He watched her slip into the chair across from him, cocking his head slightly as he looked the small form over. “Where did you get that shirt?”

The girl looked down at the grey-green tee that appeared to be four sizes too big, giving the young man a shrug. “I washed up and needed a new shirt. I'll give it back to Dean.”

Sam could only shake his head as Urd looked at the various photos on the table. “I get the feeling you enjoy tormenting Dean.”

“A little.” She glanced up at him, folding her arms on the table. “Girl's gotta have some enjoyment in her life.”

Sam thought better than to comment on the remark, coughing slightly as he straightened up the photos in front of him.

Urd ran a slender finger over the tabletop, drawing an invisible pattern against the wood grain. “The water pressure here sucks. Not that I'm complaining; just saying is all.”

“This place isn't bad as far as motels go,” Sam commented. He paused, looking up at the little girl. “Its a lot better than some of the places we've stayed in.”

“Sounds like you've had your share of questionable lodgings,” Urd said with a smile.

Sam nodded, chuckling softly as he remembered a couple particularly bad motels. “Just a few.”

“Bobby never really talked about the traveling or anything. I think he didn't want me to associate him with one of those 'charge by the hour' sleazy motels.” Urd gave a small shrug, Dean's shirt shifting on her shoulders. “He's always come off as a gentleman to me.”

Sam watched the little girl across from him, amusement hiding in his features.

Here he was sitting in a middle of nowhere motel, talking about the man who was like a second father to him with a girl who looked no older than seven-years. This was the same girl who, as a young woman, occupied every photo he had come across online. The whole situation was so odd to him.

Urd kicked her dangling feet as she looked over the table's contents, craning her neck slightly. “So whatcha doin?”

“Um.” He looked over the mass of photos, looking for an explanation that didn't sound too awkward. “Research on you.”

She raised an eyebrow, her hand quickly darting out to grab one of the photos. “Oh really?”

He couldn't grab her target fast enough, the photograph slipping off the table as she darted to the other side of the room. “Urd.”

“I wanna see your new research on us.” She sounded like an indignant child as she waved the picture above her head. “I saw your notebook. Now I wanna see this.”

Sam groaned and watched the girl examine the image in her hand. “It's nothing.”

Urd's head cocked slightly, her body unreadable as she kept her back to him. “Its Gettysburg.”

“What?” Sam questioned, straightening in his chair.

“Gettysburg.” Urd marched back to the table, slapping the photo of a hospital tent down. “A cannon shot blew the poor kids leg off mid-calf. He was 15. Kept crying for his momma.”

He paled at her answer, glancing down at the photo. “You remember that?”

“Of course.” She looked at him calmly, her expression growing sad. “I remember everything.”

Sam watched her reach for the picture laying around the table, the small hands pulling them into a pile. “Everything?”

Urd replied with a nod, flipping through the stack of images. “Unfortunately.” She held up a photograph, sighing heavily. “Sarajevo. It was June 3rd, 1910. The dresses were annoyingly painful and the heat didn't help. And a historical side-note, Archduke Ferdinand was a pompous dick.”

Sam watched her toss the image on the table, raising an eyebrow at her bluntness.

“His wife wasn't so bad but he was a prick.” Urd looked at the next one before she held it up, raising an eyebrow. “Paris, 1918. Spanish flu isn't on par with the Black Plague but it did put a dent in your population.”

He examined the photo of the trio as nurses, watching her finger tap the lone man in it.

“Soon after this was taken, Verdandi punched him because he grabbed her ass,” she explained.

Sam found himself chuckling at the image of a French nurse, looking so proper for the camera, punching a man moments later.

She tossed the image on the table, cocking her head slightly. “Some of the memories are more gruesome than others. Like these two.”

The two images she dropped in front of him were chilling. Sam remembered seeing them when he was doing a report on World War II for an 8th grade History class. Even back then he remembered thinking how bleak and depressing the images had been. Broken buildings and remains of twisted metal bent in hideous shapes, what was once a bustling city reduced to piles of rubble and ash. The names Nagasaki and Hiroshima had become synonymous with the end of the war; the photos became infamous with the destruction of the atomic bomb.

“You humans have an interesting violent streak, especially when your 'eye for an eye' rule comes into play.” She pulled out a third photo, the triplets standing amid the chaos of Pearl Harbor, and laid it with the others. “They bombed you so you decimate two cities. Actually, it was more like vaporized.”

“You were there after the bombings?” Sam questioned.

“Before, during and after.” Urd's voice grew soft as she paused looking over the pictures in her hand. Her gaze shifted to the destruction captured in the sepia toned images of the once bustling cities. “It was 8:15 on Monday morning when “Little Boy” dropped over Hiroshima. 11:02 Thursday when “Fat Man” wiped out Nagasaki. We stood beneath each blast and watched people reduced to ash as they went about their daily business.”

Sam studied the photo of Hiroshima, his eyes moving to the figures that had caught his attention in the first place. The three white-clad figures were barely distinguishable amid the remains of the Shima Surgical Hospital; standing close among the litter of white bricks and ruined stone. Like the intact shrine gate behind them, they stood silent witness to the destruction around them and the city that lay in ruins at their feet. He couldn't begin to imagine what thoughts were going through their heads as he turned his attention to the image from Nagasaki.

Again he found the familiar trio standing amid the damage, barely noticeable behind a damaged arch of Urakami Cathedral. He could just barely make out their faces, the body language of the young women speaking volumes. They had seen the worst humans could throw at each other, so many deaths in so little time, and it painted itself on every part of them. The body language of each, the way they seemed to pull into themselves said more than any amount of words possibly could.

“Our weakness is iron, solid iron. Comes from being around long enough to watch planets form.” Her tone was deceptively even as she sat back in her chair, turning back to the images in her hands. “A little radiation we can handle.”

He stared at the young girl as she flipped through the photographs one by one. Watching her, he could see why Bobby called her his historical go-to. Even behind the child's appearance there was an air of wisdom about her that youth couldn't hide. The history she saw, the memories she carried; not even the disguise of youth could hide that in her features.

His brown eyes closed and his fingertips pushed the shots away, taking an even breath. “So you stood in an atomic blast?”

Urd nodded, biting at her bottom lip. “Yeah. Atomic blasts, volcanic eruptions, fiery explosions. Atomic bomb blasts aren't exactly a picnic compared to the others though.”

Sam leveled a shocked stare at the girl's comment, shaking his head. “A picnic?”

“To us. Compared to all the other times, those two hurt. I mean physically hurt us,” she explained. “It was like a bad sunburn.”

He couldn't believe he had just heard that come from her. She had stood beneath two atomic bombs, bombs that had killed 120,000 people combined on detonation, and they simply felt like a sunburn to her. This was the same one who was brought to her knees by an iron round. It was an interesting fact that only made him wonder what else the world didn't know.

“You...” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You're not easy to figure out.”

The girl smiled, her gaze shifting toward him. “Few people actually do. Generally, we keep to ourselves. Once in a while we let you humans get close. A select few though.”

Sam swore he saw something in her eyes as she spoke. It wasn't there long enough to really register but he had caught a quick flash of something in the blue pools as she talked. Just as quickly as it appeared though, it was gone.

“So you play favorites like some of the myths say?” he questioned.

The answer was soft as she nodded. “Occasionally.”

Their attention shifted toward the window and the passing headlights beyond the curtains, the sight pulling a soft sigh from the young girl.

He let his gaze move from the curtain to the young girl across from him as she focused on the stack of print outs she still held. His mind was a mass of questions he wanted to ask her; a tangle of whats and hows and whens that just kept growing the more he studied her. The opportunity to ask what was on his mind, to seriously ask and get an answer, wasn't lost on him. And his mind was taking full advantage of the situation.

Urd let her eyes travel to the young man, biting at her bottom lip. “What's on your mind, Sam?”

“You and your sisters, you don't let people see what you are,” Sam commented.

“Not usually. It's hard for your kind to grasp exactly what we are, let alone our purpose. We have a natural defense that plays against human perception; confuses you about us and keeps the world from identifying exactly what we are capable of.” She held up a printout of The Blitz, Sam's attention going to their figures in the rubble. “It doesn't work with cameras though.”

He chuckled, leaning forward against the table top. “Does it work on all humans?”

Urd bit at her top lip, catching the glow of more headlights against the curtains as another car drove past the room. It looked like she was considering whether she should answer or not. Finally she gave him a shake of her head, taking an even breath.

“There are some who can see us. Natural psychics, shamans, even some hunters. But its a 50/50 shot on who can and cannot see past our shield, so to speak,” she explained. She paused as her brow knit briefly. “Then there are the ones we let in.”

“Like Bobby?” he questioned.

She answered with a small, almost absent nod, her blue eyes clouding.

“Urd?” Concern laced his features as he watched the little girl across from him. “Are you okay?”

A quick blink and clear of her throat brought back her composure. “Yeah. Just remembering something.

Sam couldn't help but wonder about what had gone through her mind in that moment that made her eyes cloud over like that. So much history and one memory could make her pause. He didn't doubt he saw it; a flash of pain that flashed across the piercing blue only to vanish with his question of concern. But it wasn't his place to push the issue with her.

He didn't know her the way Bobby probably did. He didn't figure he ever would either. With how things had happened in town, he was pretty sure all she saw them as was the enemy. But that didn't stop him from wondering.

The curtains lit once more as a familiar rumble stopped outside the cabin, Urd rubbing the tip of her nose as the engine outside cut off.

“Seems your brother got his air.”

Sam gave a nod and sat back in his chair, staring at the laptop before him. “Maybe he'll be in a better mood.”

“If he's anything like my sisters, then no,” Urd muttered.

The door clicked open as they remained at the table, Dean pushing his way inside with a 6-pack and a pizza. “Brought dinner, Sammy.”

“Welcome home, sunshine.” The young voice sounded downright bubbly as the little body turned in her chair. “What'd ya bring me?”

Dean froze as he stared at the young girl, raising an eyebrow. “What the hell?”

“Its her,” Sam informed. He saw the confusion in his brother's expression, taking an even breath. “Trust me, its really her.”

Dean eyed the girl cautiously, nudging the door shut as she gave him a huge grin. “That's kinda creepy.”

Urd turned back to the table, her feet dangling a few inches above the floor. “Love you too.”

Dean kept a watchful eye on the girl as he moved toward the small kitchen area, setting their version of dinner on the counter. “This quick change thing normal for you?”

“Once in a while.” She leveled a flat look toward Dean, her head cocking slightly. “Depends on the mood and the need.”

“Good.” Dean slid the beer into the cabin's fridge, turning back to Urd. “I don't wanna have to look like I'm babysitting you.”

“If anyone is babysitting here, its me,” Urd countered. Her little hand gestured to the boys, her tone matter of fact. “You're babies compared to me.”

Dean grumbled as he headed to the couch, dropping down onto the cushions and putting his feet up. “There's pizza if you eat, old woman.”

Urd turned and stuck her tongue out, making a show of the gesture.

Sam's lips pulled into a smile as she slid out of her seat and made her way to the kitchen. “Not the typical god reply.”

“Who said I'm typical?” She flipped open the pizza box, her voice raising happily. “Ooo! Onions.” After a second, she turned around to look at the pair, a slice of pizza in her hand. “What's the typical reply?”

“Trying to kill us,” Dean muttered.

“Oh.” She stared at them for a moment, finally taking a bite from the slice in her hand. “I won't do that.”

Dean's eyebrow rose as he watched her, exchanging a quick glance with Sam.

In all their hunts, the bulk of the creatures they went after pretty much had the mindset to kill them. It was par for the course actually to almost get killed and walk away with bruises, cuts and the occasional scar that the ladies loved. But it was a definite first to have their quarry telling them she wouldn't kill them while standing in their motel room eating pizza.

“And, for future reference, we do eat your food. I cook whenever I get the chance in fact,” Urd informed. She licked her lips, thumbing at some sauce at the corner of her mouth. “Bunch of stuff. Pretty good with some Greek recipes.”

“You cook?” Dean questioned.

“I have a house too.” She reached for a napkin, feeling both men staring at her. “Had it for a while.”

Sam turned in his seat to get a better look as she clean up. “How long is a while?”

“Couple hundred years.” She didn't even flinch at the answer, simply turning to head back to her seat. “Thanks for the pizza.”

Dean shook off the surprise of her comment as she smiled and slid back into her chair while Sam cleared his throat, returning to his research.

“We aren't all bad. We don't all see you as our playthings,” Urd muttered, fanning the pictures out on the table. “We make friends with you, hold down jobs with you; we even have relationships with your kind.”

“Relationships?” Dean straightened on the couch, sitting forward as he spoke. “You mean like getting hot and heavy with a human?”

She could still feel their eyes on her as she pulled an image loose, the blue of her eyes growing dark.

“History has a lot of myths and stories about gods and humans having relationships, Dean. It wouldn't be that unheard of.” Sam glanced across the table at the girl, watching her expression grow sad. “It's not that hard to think that they may have a basis in fact.”

Dean pushed himself from the couch and made his way to the table, glancing over the mess of photos. “So all those myths floating around are pretty much hook up gossip.”

Sam nodded but said nothing, instead watching the child across the table.

She stared silently at the photo as an unmistakable emotion clouded her face; pain. Both men knew the look that masked her features and danced across her eyes. They had seen more than their fair share of it in the past, neither of them saying a word.

Her blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her breathing shaky. Her lips parted as if to speak but no sound escaped her. After a moment her eyes closed, the tears finally falling against her cheek. When they reopened, they focused once more on the photo in her hands.

“Urd?” Sam questioned softly.

She looked like a part of her was suddenly missing, her eyes shimmering with tears. Her features began to change and fill out as the girl gave way to the young woman they were used to seeing. The pain still masked her features and stole the life from her eyes as she looked up, her fingers wiping at the drops on her cheek as she set the image down.

“Can we...” Her voice broke as she looked at Sam with pleading eyes. “Can we finish this later? Please?”

Sam gave her a nod as she pushed away from the table. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.” The words were barely a whisper, the slender figure heading toward the darkened bedroom beyond. “I need to lay down for a little.”

Confusion blanketed Dean's face as the young woman disappeared into the room. “What was that about?”

“I'm not sure,” Sam replied, reaching for the photograph she left behind.

Dean looked back toward the bedroom door. “Was she wearing my shirt?”

Sam muttered as he examined the picture he held. “She'll give it back.”

Dean's attention shifted to the photo in his brother's hands. “What is that?”

“A photo I found online.” Sam handed it over, his voice low. “The one she was looking at. They're in it.”

Dean's eyes scanned the ancient looking image and locked on the three familiar faces. He knew who they were, could easily pick them out, but they didn't look right. They were emaciated; their clothing hanging from their bodies and their features sunken as they looked into the camera. Or at least two of them looked at the camera.

“Where was this taken?” he questioned.

“Sutter's Fort in California.” Sam replied, his brother's eyes on him. “March of 1847. Those are survivors of the Donner Party after they were rescued.”

Dean examined the trio, swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat. “Is that Urd? The one in the middle?”

“Yeah.” The word was somber as he glanced over Dean's shoulder.

The image was probably the best of its time, the browns and off-whites of an old glass print photograph made crisp against the modern paper. The gaunt faces and mournful eyes of men, women and children stared out through the years, captured forever by a reporter's or a government worker's camera; a stark documentation of tragedy old-west style. And there, tucked amid the survivors, were the sisters.

They stood away from the others, almost out of the frame and in a place where they could watch the humans around them easily. Only two of them looked toward the camera but they weren't identical as they had been in the more recent ones. The black-haired sister glared angrily at the camera as she stood beside her siblings. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she stared daggers at the camera, the expression a clear warning to anyone thinking of approaching them. Her body language looked ready to pounce at the slightest provocation; even with her emaciated frame she appeared ready to fight anyone who crossed her. At her feet, the white-haired young woman knelt in the dirt with her arms wrapped protectively around Urd's figure. Her face was a mix of anger and concern as she held the crying body close and rested her head against her sister's. The way she held her, the spread of her hands against the fallen shoulders, spoke volumes in the fading image. Urd herself looked utterly broken; clutching what looked like a large length of cloth to her chest like it was her only lifeline. She didn't seem to care about their surroundings or the humans nearby, her world reduced to the fabric in her arms.

The photos Dean had seen before, the clippings Sam had gathered about this job, none of them had shown them as this one did. He had become used to the “cookie cutter” triplets; all three standing and watching a scene with identical almost blank expressions. It was easy to look at those and see only the creatures they were hunting.

He couldn't see that in the Donner Party photo. They weren't the same creatures to him, they were individuals caught in a photographer's flash. Each one was more human and the hunter instinct about them began to waiver. They weren't the manifestations of anything save hardship, tragedy, and unbearable pain.

“I don't know about you, Dean, but suddenly she doesn't look like such a monster,” Sam said softly.

Dean took a deep breath, still focused on the women in the image; one broken, one comforting, and one protecting. Sam was right; suddenly they weren't monsters in his book either.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was the first to wake up; his eyes cracking just enough to see the first rays of sunlight color the motel curtains. He didn't have to see the clock to know it was early. His body told him it was early enough; honestly it told him it was too damn early but he could ignore that. What he couldn't ignore was the smell starting to fill the room.

At first he thought he was dreaming, his sleep addled brain pulling the smell of bacon and eggs out of thin air to torment him. When he came to and the delicious scent didn't vanish, it became an incentive to investigate. The possibility of a hot breakfast didn't hurt either.

He shuffled out of the bedroom, the smell of coffee hitting his nose making him wake a little quicker.

“It never fails to amaze me how quickly some of you humans wake up when you smell food.”

Dean blinked, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Huh?”

From her spot at the small kitchen's sink, Urd watched the young man wake with a bemused grin. “Nothing, Dean. Just talking to myself.”

He shot her a groggy little glare before he looked around the cabin.

Nothing seemed out of place, if anything it looked cleaner. The papers and books Sam had left on the table had been neatly stacked around the laptop and printer, the sister's notebook sitting on the pile of photos. The kitchen had been cleaned up, more than it probably had in the motel's history, with the evidence of the previous night's pizza and beer gone. Even the couch Urd had fallen asleep on had been straightened with the blanket Dean had thrown over her folded over the back.

“You cleaned?” He sounded a little shocked, a confused expression on his face.

Urd pushed herself away from the sink, nodding as she looked over the cabin. “I got bored.”

“Bored?” His eyes moved to the kitchen as he took a deep breath, smelling a breakfast that could rival any diner he had been in. “And that?”

“I told you I cooked,” she answered calmly.

Dean groaned and made his way to the counter, eying the brewing coffee.

“It's not poisoned, if that's what you’re thinking.” She gave him a little room as he examined the cooking breakfast, crossing her arms over her chest. “Or drugged.”

“Where did you get this stuff?” Dean took another deep breath, the smell of bacon, eggs and hashbrowns joining the rich smelling liquid in his nose. “I know we didn't have eggs and bacon in the fridge last night.”

She moved back to the stove and grabbed the sizzling pan on the burner as she reached for a nearby spoon. “You didn't. I bought them at the little country store about a mile down the road.” She poked at the hashbrowns in the pan, giving it a shake. “Better breakfast than cold pizza and beer.”

Dean stared at her slack-jawed as she turned the potatoes. “What did you say?”

“Does Sam usually wake up to the smell of food cooking? He should eat too,” Urd questioned. She looked at Dean calmly, not bothering to answer his question. “I could always just wake him up myself.”

The shock faded to annoyance, his voice holding an edge to it. “You left the motel?”

“Most stores don't deliver, Dean.” She stepped back to open the small stove, pulling out three plates that were warming inside. “We should wake up Sam.”

“You left the motel?” He was practically yelling at her but she didn't seem to care. “You can't just leave the motel.”

“I'm sure that will wake your brother up for breakfast,” Urd muttered, plating the food. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Are you listening to me?”

Urd leveled her eyes on the young man, cocking her head slightly. “Yes, I'm just choosing not to acknowledge what is becoming a tantrum.”

Dean straightened as he heard Sam shuffle into the bedroom door with a yawn.

“Now sit down.” Her tone made it clear that was not a request as her eyes locked on Dean. “Do not make me throw you first thing in the morning.”

Sam's eyes moved from one to the other as confusion clouded his features, his brow knitting. “What's going on?”

“Breakfast,” Urd answered, calmly nodding toward the plates. ”Help yourself, Sam.”

Sam saw the annoyance in his brother's eyes leveled at the young woman. It never was a good sign but first thing in the morning made him a little uneasy. “Dean?”

“You just walked down to the local grocery store to get breakfast cause you were bored?” Dean pressed.

“Would you rather I shaved your head while you slept?” Her eyes narrowed, her tone becoming cold. “And you're overlooking a very important point. I came back.”

Sam's expression changed as he began to register the disagreement in his still sleep fogged head, his eyes falling on Urd.

“You can't just leave the motel when you want,” Dean stated. He watched her eyebrow raise as his own jaw set. “Something could have happened.”

“Like I could have killed someone?” she questioned, a bite behind the sweet sounding voice.

Dean said nothing as she closed the distance between them, an uneasy feeling coming over him as he looked into the deep azure pools. The bite in her voice was echoed in her eyes, a flash of something akin to anger dancing in the clear orbs. He kept a calm face as she stared him down, watching her head cock.

“That's what you were thinking, isn't it, Dean?” She sounded so matter of fact as she looked over his face. “That I’d leave here and go on a killing spree.”

Sam cleared his throat, holding up a hand in an attempt to defuse the situation before it turned ugly. “Maybe we should talk about this later.”

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.” Dean admitted. He started down at the young woman just as defiantly as she looked at him. “And a couple other things. Force of habit.”

An odd smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, her hands resting on her hips. “Oh really? Do tell, Dean. You've piqued my curiosity.”

Sam shook his head as he looked toward his brother.

He wasn't liking where this was heading and, knowing his brother, it wasn't about to get any better if he opened his mouth to answer. There wasn't a good outcome to be had from an early morning fight; there never was. A fight between two nearly identical personalities first thing in the morning just screamed disaster. And the fact that one of those personalities was a goddess didn't help the odds.

Dean's eyes moved to Sam, watching him shake his head before turning back to Urd.

“I know there's something you want to get off your chest so you might as well say it now and get it over with,” she commented evenly.

“Urd.” Sam gave her an uneasy look as her attention shifted to him. “I really don't think that's such a good idea.”

She cocked her eyebrow up, glancing between the two brothers as Dean gave Sam an incredulous glare. “Oh now you really have me wondering.”

“Thank you for the rousing vote of confidence, Sam,” Dean practically growled. He reached out and slapped him in the shoulder. “What the hell.”

Sam cringed slightly, jaw setting as he turned. “She's not exactly a person you want to piss off first thing in the morning, Dean.”

Urd stepped away and toward the kitchen. “He might as well say what's on his mind, Sam.”

The pair looked at her as she set the plates out on the table before taking a seat. The way she watched them sent a chill down their spines; the calm expression on her face oddly disconcerting as she folded her hands in her lap. The way she was looking at them, eyes moving from one to another expectantly waiting for one of them to talk wasn't helping.

“If she wants to know what's on my mind, Sam, then I'll be happy to tell her,” Dean offered.

Sam huffed as he shot his brother a look of disbelief. “You can't be serious.” He motioned toward the young woman watching them. “First thing in the morning and you want to open up to a goddess and chance pissing her off?”

Urd's eyes moved between the two as she ate a piece of bacon from her plate, licking her fingers before reaching for a second piece.

“She wants to know, then I say tell her. If we have to trust her she might as well know where she stands,” Dean explained, staring down his brother. “Even if it gets her pissed or not.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “I swear you have a death wish, Dean. That's the only way to explain this.”

Dean's brow knit as Sam headed for the table. “Explain this? What's that mean?”

“This!” Sam gestured between his brother and Urd to get his point across. “Butting heads with someone who, not only did Bobby vouch for, but who could toss us around like we're nothing.” His tone grew even as he looked right at Dean. “Or are you forgetting the bookstore?”

Urd cleared her throat as she raised her hand to get their attention. “In my defense, the thing at the bookstore was me exhausted. It was all I could do. I'm fully rested now.”

Sam's eyes met the older man's at Urd's revelation, tilting his head slightly. “Fully rested, Dean.”

Dean examined the young woman for a moment, briefly going over the events at the bookstore. It was a little unnerving to know she had been exhausted when she tossed them, even more so to think what she could do now that she was rested. But the woman had wanted to know what was on his mind and far be it from him to leave her wondering.

“How'd you get the money for all this?” he questioned, watching her carefully.

Urd got to her feet, walking over to the young man. “You want to know if I lifted if from you or Sam?” She looked in his eyes, her voice calm. “Don't sugarcoat it, honey. Just spit it out and be done with it.”

Sam watched silently from the table, expecting the worst as Dean looked his way.

“Well, did you?”

She looked at the young man quietly for a moment before bringing a hand up to her chest, reaching inside the neck of her shirt. “I don't know about my sisters but I try to at least keep some money on me. Or some way to get into the bank accounts I have.” She pulled out a small coin-purse, holding it up for Dean to see. “You don't want to know where that goes when I change form.”

Dean took the coin-purse and opened it, taking a look inside. There were a couple bills inside that looked like 20's, a handful of change and three cards neatly tucked inside that he could see. He removed the cards to examine them, holding them up for Sam to see.

“Happy with that answer, Dean?” Urd watched him calmly and crossed her arms over her chest. “They're all legitimate.”

He looked over each, blinking in confusion. “Elizabeth Stanton?”

“It fit better on 'em than “Urd, Goddess of Fate.” And you don't get as many odd looks.” She rested her hands on her hips as Dean examined her ID's. “I didn't use your money, I used mine.”

“Credit card, social security card, a driver's license?” Dean fanned the cards out, carefully checking each. “You can drive?”

Urd sighed heavily. She was beginning to feel like she was on trial the way he was questioning everything. Habit or not, this whole “no trust” thing with the man was starting to get annoying. “I have two cars.”

Dean examined the driver's license, flicking at the plastic. “Looks real.”

“Because it is.” She snatched the license away, grabbing her coin-purse back. “You are amazingly paranoid, Dean.”

“He gets that way sometimes,” Sam muttered from the table.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean's eyes didn't leave Urd as she tucked the tiny purse back under the shirt she wore. “So you cleaned then went out to buy stuff for breakfast on a whim?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Urd questioned.

“Because it doesn't happen to us. The things we hunt don't clean for us and they sure as hell don't cook for us,” Dean answered.

She stared at him for a moment, the silence in the room unnerving to the young man.

Urd nodded slowly as she ran a hand along her hip. “I see.” Her gaze moved to Sam seated at the table, waving toward his brother. “You feel the same way, Sam?”

The younger man shook his head. “No.” He glanced toward Dean, his tone even. “Bobby vouches for you, that's good enough for me.”

She pursed her lips and turned her attention back to Dean. “But Bobby's word doesn't mean that to you. Interesting.”

“Force of habit,” Dean explained.

“You mentioned that.” She gave a small shrug, her fingers brushing against the ring at her neck. “I'm sure it’s that whole hunter mentality. But there is something you're overlooking.”

The brothers exchanged an uneasy glance, Dean clearing his throat.

Urd's fingers clenched, a tightness appearing in Dean's chest. Her eyes grew cold as she pulled her fist back; Dean being dragged across the carpet toward her. Her hand rolled and Dean lurched forward, stopping mere inches from her face.

“I am not your hunt anymore,” she growled.

A flick of her wrist sent Dean across the room, his body slamming hard into the far wall. The motion startled Sam from his seat as Dean hit the wall's wood paneling with so much force it knocked the pictures frames from their hooks. Her fist clenched tighter as the pressure in Dean's chest grew and made his breath catch.

“Let me explain this in a way that is easy to understand. I asked you for help. That request was not a trick to get on your good side.” Urd approached Dean, grabbing his jaw and bringing his head forward. “I don't plan on attacking you in your sleep but, truthfully, the urge to kick your ass is pretty damn tempting right now.”

Dean groaned as she squeezed his jaw, looking her in the eyes.

“I asked for your help because we need it. That takes us off your hunt list.” She pushed Dean's head back into the wall. “You'd do well to remember that, Dean.”

Dean's body was sent crashing to the floor as the young woman turned away. He pushed himself up and glared at her but said nothing. He wasn't hurt physically but his pride was bruised.

“Now I suggest you eat and find me a map of this stupid little town,” Urd muttered, sitting down at her plate. Her eyes still hold the hint of coldness as she settled into the chair. “Preferably one that shows the borders of town.”

Sam's brow knit as she occupied the chair across from his. “A map?”

“You talked to Morgan's mom otherwise you wouldn't have known my name. So you know about her dad,” Urd answered.

Dean still glared at the woman as he sat down. “Yeah. The local police are calling it a disappearance.”

“Disappearance.” She sounded unimpressed as she repeated the word. “Nice way to put it.”

“We figured him going missing and you showing up had something to do with each other. So we talked to Sarah Ballard.” Sam took his seat across from her, Dean cautiously moving to sit beside him. “Too much coincidence for it not to be connected.”

She nodded, eating some of her eggs. “It’s no coincidence.”

“So you know where he is,” Dean muttered.

Urd nodded and put her fork down. “General area. But when we get close to it, I can lead you to him.”

Dean shook his head, doubtful. “So what? You're a fate goddess with tracking abilities? Why not just do whatever you just did to me on him?”

Her hand rose and her fingers curled, causing the air in front of the boys to shimmer. She turned her hand over as the light from the curtains caught the gossamer threads dancing against her skin. Her eyes focused on them as they skittered between and around her fingertips.

“Every human has one of these. Some of your kind call it by different names; life line, thread of life and string of life are the most common I've heard. It's even been worked into common speech.” Her eyes moved to the young men, smiling. “Few humans have seen these except when in my hands.”

“That's what you meant by pulling our strings?” Sam questioned. He watched the threads curl around her fingertips as if they were living things, responding to her every move. “You literally meant it.”

She nodded, pulling at the threads and giving each a quick pluck. “You really are puppets on strings.”

The pair shivered as they felt a tremble in their chests when she plucked the strings. It was an odd sensation to see her fingers gently snap the shimmering strands and suddenly feel the vibration jolt through their bodies and straight to the bone. Seeing and ultimately feeling what she could do made it seem a little less mysterious but just a little bit creepier for them.

“If I'm close enough to a person, I can grab their string. Two people, like you two, and I can summon them with a thought.” Urd sighed, sending the strings retreating back into their chests. “Further away and pulling more strings means I have to verbally call them to me. But it only works with the living.”

Dean sighed at the words, shaking his head slowly. He had a suspicion about Marcus Ballard's fate when they had been at his house but he hadn't been about to voice it. Oddly, he had been hoping that gut instinct that gnawed at him was wrong and Ballard was living it up somewhere. Unfortunately though Urd's comment had just backed up his nagging feeling.

Sam was just as disappointed by the answer as his brother, a thoughtful look crossing his face. He took a moment to assess the situation before he cleared his throat to get the young woman's attention. When he spoke, his tone was gentle and his words measured. “Urd, can you tell us about when you and your sisters arrived?”

She stared at him quietly for a moment, taking an even breath. “What about it?”

“Can you remember anything about it?” Sam offered.

Urd thought for a moment, scratching her head. She remembered more than enough about it but it was putting the situation into words that would let the two men understand from her point of view that was the hard part. “It was late. One minute I'm standing in my kitchen and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere with my two sisters.”

Sam's brow knit at the vague explanation as Dean watched her. “So you're saying you just woke up here?”

“In the middle of a hayfield.” She nodded, looking at the pair calmly. “It hurt too. Felt like every bone was broken when I tried moving at first.”

Dean finally spoke, glancing at Sam briefly. “You'd think someone would notice a set of triplets suddenly appearing in a field.”

Sam was silent for a moment as he ran through a couple things in his mind. “If it was late, someone may not have seen them at all.”

Urd ate as the boys talked, finishing her breakfast while they discussed the finer points of goddesses waking up in rural fields. It wasn't exactly riveting conversation since they were talking about her but they were hunters and it was their job after all. She just couldn’t get enthused about the less than glamorous start to her own case.

“Well someone must have noticed something other than a sudden string of odd deaths,” Dean muttered.

“Should I just show you where we woke up?” Urd commented, pushing her chair from the table. “Might be easier.”

The conversation stopped as she stood up and carried her plate to the nearby sink.

“Show us?” Dean gave her an odd look as he watched her from the table. “What do you mean?”

She put her plate in the sink and turned with a shrug, leaning against the counter. “Maybe it would be easier to wrap your heads around if you saw exactly where we woke up.” She paused to let the words sink in. “Make it a whole afternoon of fun.”

“I think I'll pass when it comes to your version of fun,” Dean muttered.

She waved him off and rolled her eyes, pushing away from the counter. “You don't know my true idea of fun so don't presume.”

Sam cleared his throat to get Dean's attention. When the older man looked his way he gave him a “let it drop” look. He didn't want a round two.

“I have been back to that field a few times since we got here trying to find out how some random person in a Podunk little town managed to get us here. Maybe you can see something I can't,” she explained.

Dean said nothing but Sam gave a nod at her idea.

She gave the two an enthusiastic nod and clapped her hands together as she stepped from the tiny kitchen. “Okay then. Eat your breakfast, you boys have a body to dig up later.” She walked toward the bedroom, calling over her shoulder. “I'll be in the shower.”

They watched as she disappeared around the corner, Dean's voice taking a serious tone. “Can you electrocute a goddess?”

“Dean,” Sam huffed in annoyance.

Dean let out a huff of his own, picking up his fork and stabbing at his plate. “I was just asking.”

~*~

It was hard to have a peaceful breakfast when the person across from you was plotting. A normal cup of coffee or a couple eggs in a diner turned into a covert production complete with creepy half heard mumbles and secretive drawings. It was a wonder the waitress returned to the table or for that matter, hadn't called the cops on the pair at the corner table.

Skuld had long forgone a normal breakfast since coming to this town. A “normal” breakfast had become the three of them sitting at a table in the local diner or coffeehouse, sometimes even a park bench, trying to figure out a way out of town. It may not have been all that “normal” per say but, as far as the three of them were concerned, it was a routine they desperately needed. She had even begun to enjoy it.

She wasn't enjoying this morning though.

Verdandi, when left to her own devices, was a little unsettling. Watching her plot and plan was actually more worry inducing. She was too good at it; the plans just came too easily for her. Give the woman a pad of paper, a pen and a goal and she could go from zero to ruthless in nothing flat.

Skuld watched her sister quietly from across the small table, sipping at her coffee cup.

She was beginning to wonder about her sibling. The earlier revelation about her extra-curricular activities had made Skuld curious about any possible police records Verdandi, or whatever she called herself, had. Watching this though was making her wonder about her sister's sanity.

Verdandi flipped through the pages of the legal pad she had stolen from their captor's house, twirling her equally stolen pen in her fingers as she thought. After a moment or two her eyes would light up and her pen would go to work in an almost frantic scribble against the paper before falling inactive. She would sit like that, staring at her notes, for a minute or two before her scribbles would start again.

“Verdandi?” Skuld tapped her fingertips against the ceramic cup, watching her sister twirl the pen in her fingers. “You gonna eat?”

“Yeah.” The dark haired woman waved her companion off, reading over her latest page. “In a minute.”

“You said that ten minutes ago,” Skuld commented.

Verdandi looked up as Skuld flashed an innocent smile, sighing heavily. “I'm busy.”

Skuld raised an eyebrow as she licked her lips, tasting the bitter remains of coffee against them. “You're making me nervous.”

“How am I making you nervous?” Verdandi shot her sister an annoyed look as she grabbed her fork and stabbed at her omelet. “I mean really.”

The younger woman set her cup down as a waitress passed their table, waiting until she was gone before speaking. “You really have to ask?”

Verdandi's answer was an indignant shrug and an egg muffled, unintelligible comment that sounded more like a grunt than anything.

“You have been sitting there since we arrived, mumbling to yourself and writing. You've even chuckled a couple times. It's creepy,” Skuld explained softly. She paused as their waitress came to refill her cup, her eyes on Verdandi. “It’s very creepy.”

Her sister swallowed down her mouthful of food, pointing her fork at Skuld. “I'm working on getting our sister back.”

“You're working on creeping me the hell out,” Skuld hissed.

Verdandi rolled her eyes at the comment, shaking her head. “Everything creeps you out.”

Skuld's jaw set as she glared across the table, her eyes narrowing. Her hand darted across the tabletop and latched onto the legal pad, snapping it up before Verdandi could react. Her eyes shifted from her sister to the papers, ignoring the protests across from her.

“Give those back, Skuld,” the dark haired woman growled.

Skuld shook her head, reading through the chicken scratch Verdandi called hand writing. “I'm busy.”

“You're fucking annoying is what you are,” the older woman grumbled.

Skuld's eyes scanned the pages while Verdandi ate; her brow knitting.

“What?” Verdandi huffed as she put her fork down. She knew that look better than anyone. “What's wrong?”

“Well, this reads more like a carjacking than a rescue.” Skuld ran her finger along the page as she read, tapping at a couple things. “Same with these.”

Verdandi snatched the pad back as her eyes narrowed. “I don't see you making any plans.”

Running her tongue along the inside of her cheek, Skuld let out a sigh.

They were the definition of sibling rivalry; always had been. In fact, they had probably been the cause behind the phrase appearing in human speech. But Urd kept them from killing each other. With their sister gone, however, their “play nice” routine was beginning to wear thin.

She took a deep breath, pushing back the urge to reach across their breakfasts and punch Verdandi. “Why do you want to steal their car?”

“Call it an added bonus,” the older woman muttered.

“You'd think getting our sister back would be bonus enough.” Skuld sat back as she looked across the table. “But you gotta go for the car too.”

Verdandi finished her omelet, her jaw setting and her eyes cold. “If you don't like my ideas then come up with your own.”

Skuld looked away, shaking her head as she reached for the jelly rack between them. “This isn't the place to fight, Verdandi. Too many people.”

“I'm not fighting.” Verdandi's tone was clipped as she looked over her ideas. When she glanced up the blue of her eyes was colder than before. “I'm just saying that if you don't like my ideas, come up with your own.”

A quick search of the jelly to find something other than strawberry was a tiny reprieve from the icy stare.

Skuld had no idea how Urd did it; how the woman managed to keep them wrangled in the way she did. Somehow she managed to keep the bickering between them to a minimum without lashing out. Skuld wished to hell she knew how she did it so she could use it herself. Any type of control would be better than the urge to beat Verdandi with the coffee mug nearby.

Silence passed between them for a moment, the diner noise replacing the clipped and annoyance filled banter crossing the tabletop. Verdandi’s glare settled back on her legal pad as Skuld settled on a package of blackberry jelly for her toast, each of them letting out a sigh that got lost in the background noise. It may not have been much but that small pause helped lift some tension.

“What do you think they've done to her?”

Verdandi blinked at the question, staring at the legal pad. “I don't want to think about that.”

“Neither do I but...” Skuld looked up from the piece of toast that had held her attention, raking her teeth over her bottom lip as she paused. “They're different. Maybe they're not the usual hunter types we're used to, ya know?”

Verdandi slowly looked up, raising an eyebrow at the comment. “What was that?”

Skuld gave a small shrug, playing with her toast. “Just a thought.”

“You think they're a different kind of gun-toting, track us down and plug us hunters?” The shocked look and raised eyebrows echoed Verdandi's voice as she looked at her sister. “Are you serious?”

“I'm just saying. Not all humans are bad, Verdandi,” Skuld answered. She pointed her jelly covered knife at her sister, lowering her voice. “Remember Charles?”

Verdandi's jaw clenched as a man walked past the table. “He wasn't a hunter.”

Skuld's eyes moved from her sister to the waitress who appeared with their bill, acting as though nothing was wrong as she paid. She made sure the woman was gone before she returned her attention to Verdandi. They didn't need anyone overhearing their conversation.

“Charles may not have been a hunter but he proved not all humans are out to get us,” she said softly.

Verdandi said nothing as she stared at the younger woman, cocking her head slightly.

Skuld held up a hand, shaking her head. “I'm not saying I'm suddenly pro-hunter or anything. We just don't know what, if anything, they've done with her.”

“You're giving hunters, a class of humans we've dealt with in the past, the benefit of a doubt,” Verdandi muttered.

A heavy sigh escaped Skuld as she ate her toast, shaking her head.

“Maybe they're gonna use her to lure us out. It wouldn't be the first time a hunter tried that.” Verdandi began to gather up the few things she had brought as Skuld finished her breakfast. “Remember the asshole in Ireland who tried that? His ass ended up buried in a peat bog when we got done with him. And not in one piece either.”

“So you think they'll use her to draw us out?” Skuld tossed her napkin on her plate as they pushed their chairs away from the table. “Use her as bait?”

Verdandi made her way to the front door, her expression serious as she made her way outside with her sister close behind. “It's a thought.”

The younger woman squinted against the morning sun as they exited. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, falling into step beside her sister. Her hands slipped into her pockets as a woman passed by, Skuld's eyes watching her cautiously.

“We just have to get her away from them,” Verdandi stated calmly. She held up the legal pad with a mischievous little smile. “I just have to work out a couple things.”

Skuld rolled her eyes and sighed, kicking at the pavement. “I'm sure you'll figure something out.”

Verdandi stopped as they neared the crosswalk leading toward the square. “And if all else fails, we do things the old-fashioned way.”

Skuld's face went slack as her eyes met Verdandi's. “Old-fashioned” in her sister's vocabulary didn't mean anything good; more times than not it meant violence. Both Skuld and Urd had come to realize that long ago when humans were getting a real foothold in the world. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh yes.” The grin that pulled at the edges of Verdandi's mouth was nothing short of sinister. “We wipe a couple hunters off this rock.”


	13. Chapter 13

Dean watched the road ahead as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, an annoyed sounding huff escaping him. “This is stupid.”

Sam glanced toward his brother momentarily before his eyes shifted back to the hawk flying a few feet above the road in front of them. “It's a lead, Dean.”

“We're following a bird, Sam,” Dean countered, pointing toward the windshield. “A bird.”

Sam sighed heavily as he shook his head. They had been having the same discussion since they got in the car. “We're following a goddess in the form of a bird.”

“It’s still following a bird. Goddess or not,” the older man grumbled. “If we get passed by a guy on a tractor, I'm blaming her.”

Sam's eyes zeroed in on the speedometer, the needle hovering at 40. It wasn't dean's usual speed but it was necessary. At the usual speed, they would easily overtake the now feathered goddess ahead of them.

“That is her usual mode of getting around, Dean. And after this morning's battle, I doubt you'd really trust her enough to listen to any directions she'd give,” Sam explained. He watched the small form in front of the car, the sunlight catching her plumage. “And I doubt you'd let her drive.”

The look on Dean's face was one of pure outrage at his brother's words. “That's not even funny, Sam.”

Sam saw the falcon dip briefly before speeding up and making a sharp right down a dirt road. “Then don't complain about the bird thing.”

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Dean turned to follow, his brow knitting. “Half expecting to hear her go “tweet” now or something.”

“Let it go, Dean.” Sam warned evenly. “For your sake, let it go.”

The car jostled along the pitted road as the trees that had stood at a distance began to close in around them. Houses began to grow few and far between the more they followed, the noises of the gravel beneath the Impala's tires becoming a steady white noise against the engine's purr. The shadows of leaves from the growing canopy overhead darkened the road and the small body ahead of them as the pair in the car focused on the momentary flashes of gold in the sparse sunlight.

“This would explain why nobody saw them.” Sam watched the trees beside the road grow denser as they drove on, the sun all but vanishing above them. “The trees would have shielded them from sight.”

Dean slowed the car as Urd made a quick left and disappeared behind an overgrown patch of weeds. “Now where is she going?”

The car came to a halt beside the weeds, the pair getting out to look around.

“Any idea where we are?” Dean questioned, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

Sam ducked back into the car to grab the computer printed map. He studied it for a moment before he looked toward his brother. “Old Sheridan Road.”

“Also known as Rural Route 2.” Urd's voice echoed against the trees as she reappeared, her human form wading through the chest high weeds. “I wasn't going that fast, Dean. You could have kept up.”

Dean glared at the woman, Sam quickly cutting off any comment he was about to make. “How do you know it’s called Rural Route 2?”

The young woman looked at the pair as she kicked at the weeds, sending up a metallic ringing sound. “Lucky guess?”

Confusion crossed their faces at the sound, both men walking toward her as she ducked beneath the tangle of grasses. There was the sound of grass ripping from the ground as she strained to pull at something hidden beneath the weeds. No sooner had they set foot in the tall grass than a slender arm appeared holding a beat up piece of metal.

“What is that?” Dean took the scrap and looked it over, glancing toward her spot in the grass. “A mailbox door?”

Sam moved to look over Urd's shoulder as she pulled the broken stalks away from the half-buried box, raising an eyebrow. “Rural Route 2. E. Mar, the rest of the name is missing.”

“All the times I've been out here, I've never noticed this before now.” Urd sat back on her heels in the tall grass, her fingers brushing away the dirt from the rusted metal. “Of course I was always higher up.”

Dean examined their surroundings closer, tossing the door aside as Sam walked further into the weeds.

The trees stood thick around them like a living wall, making the deserted patch of road seem wholly isolated, unnaturally so. Dense branches and full leaves blotted out the sun above to give the summer air an uncommon chill. There was an uneasy stillness around them that would make any other person in their place take off. There were no singing birds or crickets chirping, no sounds of rustling leaves overhead even when Dean could feel a breeze against his face; as if the world around them were muted.

He turned his attention to the young woman in the grass. “How many times have you been out here?”

Urd glanced up from the rusted box, her brow creasing slightly. “Over a dozen. Mostly trying to figure out how we got here.” A small push off one knee and she was on her feet, dusting herself off. “Why?”

Dean glanced toward the branches overhead. “In all your trips, you ever remember hearing birds?”

“Birds?” Her eyes followed Dean's, her head cocking to one side. “Now that you mention it, no.”

He studied the treetops for even the slightest hint of movement. “There should be birds. Even for the country it’s too quiet.”

Urd's eyes searched the surrounding trees, combing her fingers through her hair. “Kinda creepy for the country.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leveling her gaze on the young man. “Shouldn't we be hearing at least a cow or something? Anything besides us moving around?”

Dean was about to answer her when he saw Sam wading back through the weeds toward them.

His long legs pushed through the weeds fairly easily as the pair turned to look at him. “This driveway goes back pretty far. I couldn't see an end to it.”

“There's a farmhouse back there. Middle of nowhere.” Urd nodded toward the direction Sam had walked, glancing between the two. “Not far from where we woke up.”

“Can you show us?” Sam asked.

She gave a small nod, her eyes falling on Dean. “Think you can keep up this time?”

He shot her an angry glare, fishing his keys from his pocket as he headed for the car. “It's a driveway.”

“Then it shouldn't be an issue,” she commented evenly.

Dean stopped in his tracks halfway back to the Impala, clenching a fist as he bit back the urge to reply. He took a deep breath as Sam walked past to the passenger door, mumbling under his breath. His jaw clenched as he looked across the roof toward Sam.

“Let it go, Dean.” Sam shook his head as he opened the door, glancing back toward the young woman. “It’s not worth it.”

Dean practically growled as he slid behind the wheel, starting the car and throwing it into reverse. “Then it shouldn't be an issue.” He maneuvered the car to the mouth of the drive, inching past the young woman kicking at the grass. “If my car gets scratched, she's paying to get it fixed.”

Sam said nothing to the comment as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Urd watched the car pass, catching her reflection in the black paint. As soon as they passed she gave one last glance toward the treetops. Her face twisted slightly, her blue eyes scanning the leaves. She shrugged off the unease and turned on her heel.

The pair watched from the car as the young woman turned and, with a small jump, changed before their eyes into the golden bird once more. They both watched the tiny body dart over the rear windshield and finally reappear above the hood. A rev of the engine and they were behind her once more.

The trees beyond the mouth of the driveway were sporadic at best, one or two looming large amid a never ending sea of weeds and wild flowers. The sun made the surroundings look golden as the Impala bumped along the faint scars of dirt that made up the long forgotten drive. The change, though welcoming compared to the tree line before, only made the uneasy feeling gnawing at each of them stronger.

Sam studied the landscape, taking in the overgrown scenery. “Wonder who else knows about this place.”

“Well, judging from the road back there, whoever does hasn't been here for a while.” Dean kept an eye on the little body, watching her swoop down over a pile of rocks near the road. “Doubtful anyone has been out here except her.”

Urd made a sharp right and flew out over the grasses, doubling back to the car before shedding her avian appearance. Her hand came up to push the blonde locks from her eyes as the sun warmed her skin, watching the Impala come to a halt. She looked over her shoulder toward the field as the squeak of the doors cut through the still air.

“Urd?” Sam's voice and the heavy close of the doors managed to pull the woman's attention back. “Something wrong?”

She thumbed over her shoulder as Dean made his way around the car hood. “We woke up over there. You're gonna have to walk unless you wanna get your car stuck.”

Dean took a moment to look back the way they had come. “You weren't kidding about middle of nowhere.”

The trees that had shielded the fields from sight were little more than a black line against blue sky.

“Middle of the night, we couldn't see those. All we saw were stars and what little we could make out in the dark.” Urd shoved her hands in her jean pockets, looking back toward the field. “Verdandi had a lighter and some of the grasses caught fire so we made a make-shift torch. It was enough for us to at least see where we were going.”

The pair watched as she headed into the tall grass, following behind her.

“So there wasn't any moonlight out here to help?” Sam questioned as they walked.

“None. It was a dark moon,” she replied.

The brothers exchanged a glance as they continued to follow through the weeds.

“Anything else you can remember?” Dean offered.

Urd was silent for a moment, her hands slipping from her pockets as she paused. “The collars were on when we woke up. I remember laying in the dirt and feeling it even over the feeling of being hit by a damn truck.”

“Wait.” Dean stopped in his tracks as he stared at her. “What collars?”

She could feel their eyes on her as she turned; the expectant looks making her a little self-conscious.

The collars were a weakness, their weakness, and a rather sore spot for each of them. Self-preservation screamed loud in her head for her to say nothing about them but rational thought was just as loud. It was becoming more of a trust issue the more the two sides argued in her mind.

Sam caught the hesitation in her eyes as she stood before them. “Urd.”

She looked toward Sam quietly, pursing her lips.

“You asked for our help.” He motioned between himself and Dean, keeping his tone kind. “We can't help you if we don't know everything.”

“I don't...” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, shaking her head. “It's not something we want known.”

It was Dean who spoke up, much to Urd's surprise. “And no one will. But you have to trust us.”

Urd's hands moved to her throat, slender fingers wrapping around the cold metal at her neck. Her eyes closed as a gentle tug brought the iron ring into view of the pair. A resigned sigh escaped her as her eyes opened and a sad expression washed over her face.

Sam made a cautious step forward, examining the ring at her throat. “You said you woke up with this?”

“All of us did,” she answered solemnly.

He looked closer at the collar, slipping a finger beneath the metal. He felt the weight of it and the unnatural chill the metal held even for being against her skin. He carefully rotated the metal hoop before he let it go to rest against her collarbone.

“It's iron. And we can't get them off,” she said softly.

Dean approached for a look of his own. “Looks like a solid ring.”

“It is.” Sam's voice was low, his eyes on the heavy hoop. “I couldn’t' see any weld or seam.”

Urd shook her head and began to walk away, not liking the fact she was under the scrutiny. “We've tried to get them off but nothing works. Even changing shape doesn't work; they just stay in place.”

The two men exchanged a curious look before following her further into the field.

They both knew something wasn't right at the mention of a collar. Putting one on any supernatural being was never a wise move. The few times they had come across anyone foolish enough to try it, the outcome was never good. It was safe to say if this was anything like the others, it wouldn't end pretty.

The mention of a collar being involved had gotten the gears in Sam's head turning. He was already going through the myriad of possible causes and research avenues he could look into. There had to be something to be found somewhere; some piece of information that could lead to an answer.

While Sam's mind had gone to researching, Dean's was taking a more tactical approach. Instead of going through some mental list of books, he was going through what could break a metal collar like the one at her neck. Bolt cutters came to mind, so did a hack saw along with a couple other options. Common sense quickly knocked some of those out of the running as he looked her way; somehow he didn't think taking an acetylene torch to her throat would win much in the way of favor.

Urd pushed her way through the tall grass, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Do you have any idea how annoying all this is?”

They started following her once more but said nothing as the young woman spoke, letting her vent.

“It’s not supposed to be like this. We don't show up in towns like this just to end up on a damn leash.” She turned, leveling an angry gaze on the men. “We aren't meant to be anyone's private hit squad.”

“And we understand that, Urd. We really do,” Sam started, taking a step forward. He kept his voice kind as he spoke, not really wanting to upset her any more than she already was. “And that’s why we're helping you. Dean and I, we both know you and your sisters don't belong here.”

“I'm so tired of all this. We all are.” Her voice hitched and her shoulders sank as she cast her eyes to the ground. “I wanna go home.”

“And you will,” Sam reassured.

The anger that had been in her eyes had given way to exhaustion that ran far deeper than even she would openly admit. For months she had shouldered so much. Hearing the sincerity in the young men's voices, the promise to help in their actions, lifted a load from her she hadn't truly felt until now.

“We just have to get you three out of those collars,” Dean added.

Urd motioned over her shoulder toward the field, her voice soft. “We woke up over there. The grass started to grow back but you can still tell.”

Dean's face twisted in confusion, looking toward Sam. “Grow back?”

“See for yourself.” The young woman swept her arm out and stepped aside. “You want to know everything; you might as well see where it started for us.”

Sam began walking forward, stopping briefly as he came up beside her. “You aren't going to come?”

“I have been back to this place more times than I care and I came up with nothing.” Urd shook her head, pushing her hair from her face. “If you two want to take a look, be my guest. I've seen it all before.

He could hear Dean join him, wading through the weeds as Urd stayed behind.

“Well this should be interesting. Wandering around an empty field looking for the spot where three goddesses woke up,” Dean muttered, looking over the expanse of golden stalks. “So anything coming to mind about all this so far?”

Sam shook his head, brow creasing slightly. “Nothing good.”

“Collaring a god. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who did it.” Dean glanced over his shoulder, an odd look on his face. “Wonder what she meant by the grass was growing back.”

When he turned forward, his expression changed to mild shock, stopping in his tracks. “Son of a bitch.”

Though Dean wasn't the most eloquent with words, even at the best of times, Sam was inclined to agree with the statement.

Hidden by the tall grass and nearly dead center in the plot of land was a crater, the up-turned soil scorched around its rim. It had to be at least twelve feet across by the looks of it and probably close to three feet deep with sloped walls that held three sets of footprints just visible in the dirt. Just as Urd had said, grass had started growing around the crater's lip; bright green shoots standing amid patches of burnt stalks and chunks of rock. It was clearly an impact crater no matter how they looked at it.

“Well this is a new one.” Dean kicked at the crater lip, watching as a rock bounced along the sloping side to rest at the bottom. “Even for us.”

A heavy sigh escaped Sam, his eyes scanning the impressive scar. “This isn't a good sign.”

“Whatever gave you that idea? Couldn't be the singed and gaping hole in the ground or anything,” Dean murmured.

“Urd said she was in her kitchen and then she woke up here.” Sam surveyed the damage as he went over the facts in his head. “The collars, this...the Fates weren't summoned here. They were dragged here.”

“That would explain suddenly waking up in this I guess.” Dean shook his head, cringing at the image of the woman behind them creating the hole before them. “Even for a goddess, making this had to sting.”

Sam turned where he stood and looked back at the young woman. “She told me the other night that they were in the atomic bomb blasts in Japan. Said they felt like a bad sunburn but waking up here made her feel like her bones were broken.”

“I'm sure if I made a crater this big, I'd hurt bad too.” Dean turned his attention away from the hole and let his eyes wander around the field. “This kind of blows all the New Age summoning stuff out of the water.”

Urd pulled at the weeds around her, Sam watching as she sat down. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

Dean's voice was even as he too looked toward the blonde. “Too bad they aren't smart enough to know they shouldn't have.”


	14. Chapter 14

Skuld peered out the lace curtained playhouse window, her eyes shifty as she snapped the flimsy fabric closed.

The wooden playhouse that sat in the library's children's section wasn't exactly the best place to work but it offered them a little privacy. No one would question a couple kids hanging out inside a playhouse; no librarian would come and disturb them in an effort to help with their map reading or ask where their parents were if they were in any other section. And no one would really see them unless they came out. The girls could work in the relative privacy afforded to them by plywood and shabby fabric.

“I don't think we're going to have much time in here, Verdandi,” Skuld muttered, turning to face her sister. She slid into the second chair at the table as her eyes moved to the map laid out in front of them. “A woman with five kids just walked in the front door.”

Verdandi snorted and looked at the map, shaking her head. “They can play once we're done.”

Skuld looked at the toy pots and pans on the floor, picking up one of the little metal pots. “Is it really wise to give little kids metal items to play with?”

“Don't know, don't care.” Verdandi chewed at a fingernail as she studied the map. “What do you remember about hunters?”

“They pretty much live off the grid.” Skuld thought for a moment, pursing her lips. “Almost gypsy kind of living; moving around a lot.”

Verdandi tapped her finger against the map, nodding. “I doubt that hunting our kind down pays well.”

“What are you thinking?” Skuld questioned.

“Hunters usually have a base, right? Some place they can sleep and do whatever else they do,” Verdandi muttered. She ran her finger along the map, following a road. “I'm thinking they have a motel room somewhere or they're squatting.”

Skuld examined the map, hearing the approach of children outside the playhouse. “So you think they have a base. But where?”

“The kid at the store said he saw them head north. There are two motels and a number of abandoned houses that fall inside the town limits. We can start looking there.” Verdandi looked up as the playhouse door rattled, her expression annoyed. “Oh come on. This is the only toy they can play with?”

“I told you. Five kids,” Skuld said evenly.

Verdandi huffed, shaking her head. “Stupid brats.”

Skuld glanced down at the pot in her hand, the door rattling again.

“We do have one advantage to searching for them. That car is gonna stick out like a sore thumb,” Verdandi explained. Her jaw set as the door rattled again followed by a whine. “NO SOLISITORS!”

“We wanna play in the house,” a girl's voice whined from the other side.

“Go away!” Verdandi glared at the door, getting out of her little chair. “We're playing in the house!”

Skuld examined the mess of toys on the floor, pursing her lips. “It's a popular toy.”

“I don't care if it’s gold-plated,” Verdandi began, turning to yell at the door. “We're still playing in here!”

Skuld's eyes looked over the map for a moment before she caught a movement at one of the curtains, letting out a shriek. “HOME INVASION!”

Verdandi turned in time to catch the pot her sister held connect with the face of an older boy who was trying to look inside. The sound of metal hitting its mark followed by a kid crying made her cringe, her eyes closing. Suddenly metal toys didn't seem like a good idea.

“We are so getting banned from this library,” she mumbled, Skuld looking toward her.

“Sorry.” Skuld dropped her weapon, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “I'm a little on edge.”

“I would never have guessed,” her sister said flatly. Verdandi grabbed the map from the table, looking Skuld in the eyes. “Think you can refrain from hitting another kid in the face?”

Skuld nodded, putting her hands behind her back. “Yes.”

Verdandi let out a heavy sigh, tucking the map inside her shirt. “How do you manage to function when we're each on our own?”

“I am perfectly fine on my own,” Skuld spat, poking her index finger into the older girl's shoulder. “At least I don't have to deal with hunters kidnapping my sister when I'm going solo.”

Verdandi was about to say something when they heard a knock on the playhouse roof, both girls freezing.

“Whoever is in there, you need to come out,” a woman's voice stated evenly.

“It's the Fuzz!”

Verdandi's hand connected with the side of Skuld's head at the comment, her eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”

“Girls.” The voice was a little sterner this time, the woman outside probably a librarian. “I know you can hear me in there.”

Verdandi pointed a finger at Skuld in warning as she moved to one of the windows, opening the curtain and looking out. “We're playing. Go away.”

The woman, a young looking thing Verdandi remembered seeing at the counter when they arrived, looked at the little girl calmly. She adjusted her glasses and shook her head at the girl's answer. “You have to share the playhouse.”

“We were here first. We aren't done playing.” Verdandi kept her tone calm as she looked at the young woman, resting her hands on the window frame. “They can have it when we're done. And we aren't done yet.”

The look on the librarian's face was one of annoyance, even when Verdandi gave her a smile. “Now you two young ladies have to share or I'm going to have to find your parents and have a talk with them about your actions.”

“Oh yeah. That's doable.” The comment was more of a mumble as Skuld walked up behind her sister. “Good luck with that.”

Verdandi took an almost diplomatic tone as the librarian peered into the playhouse. “We will let them have a turn but we aren't done yet.”

“What have you two done in there? It's a mess.”

The pair glanced toward the toys on the floor, exchanging a quick glance.

“A tornado came through,” Skuld blurted. She looked up, flashing an innocent smile. “And an earthquake. We're assessing the damage.”

“Out here. Now,” the young librarian ordered.

Verdandi glared at the woman as the sisters backed away from the window.

“This whole 'use the playhouse for privacy' idea isn't going so well.” Skuld backed toward the door, kicking at the toy stove that blocked the entrance. “We suck at being kids, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Verdandi let her eyes travel around the playhouse as Skuld pried the stove from the door. “Right now, I could care less though. I just want to get the hell out of here.”

“How?” Skuld hissed, knocking the stove against the wall. “We can't change in front of these humans without exposing ourselves. Same with vanishing.”

Verdandi cocked her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as she spotted the child-size broom and mop beside the door. She reached forward, slender fingers wrapping around the broom's handle. She looked it over before her eyes settled on her sister.

“What are you planning?” The question held the hint of apprehension that was painted clearly on the younger girl's face.

“A quick out for us.” Verdandi gave the broom a twirl before opening the playhouse door. “Stay close.”

The girls exited the playhouse, one after another, coming face to face with the young woman who ordered them out. The woman Skuld had seen earlier stood just behind the librarian with a crying boy in front of her and a none too pleased look on her face. The way she was glaring one would think Skuld had killed the kid and not simply hit him in the face.

“Now girls, the playhouse is for everyone to share,” the librarian started. She looked at each girl in turn, pointing to the toy in question. “You can't take it over and not let others play with it.”

Verdandi leaned against the broom, blue eyes locking on the woman. “We commandeered that house as our base and we had every right to use it.

The young librarian sighed at the answer. “You can't commandeer the playhouse.”

“You should be talking to their parents,” the mother behind her fumed, glaring at the pair. “They hit my son.”

Verdandi chuckled, pointing at the crying boy. “Lady, that boy is in for a lifetime of slaps with that face. My sister may be the first but she sure won't be the last.”

Skuld cringed and moved behind Verdandi as the mother sputtered, peering over her older sister's shoulder. “I don't think that helped.”

“Trust me,” Verdandi breathed, keeping her eyes on the librarian.

The young woman looked at the girls calmly and straightened. “I'm going to have to talk to your parent or guardian.”

Skuld groaned as Verdandi took an even breath. “Oh god.”

“Very well. But let me offer a retort.” Verdandi swung the broom and connected with the young woman's forehead, knocking her backward. “FREEDOM!”

Skuld watched the woman stagger backward for a second before taking off for the door with her sister close behind. “That's your plan?”

“Less talky, more runny,” Verdandi shouted as she raced out the front door after her.

Once outside the pair disappeared around the back of the brown brick building, using an unkempt bush for cover in case anyone followed.

Verdandi sank to the ground as Skuld put her back against the building brick wall, both trying to catch their breath.

“Okay, new plan,” Verdandi huffed. She sat back on her heels, shaking her head. “Urd never finds out about that.”

“Agreed,” Skuld nodded, her head resting against the wall. She rolled her head across her shoulders, sinking to sit on the ground. She looked at her sister as she grabbed a dirt clod from beside her and chucked it at the girl. “And how about next time you don't assault someone who might come in handy for us later?”

The dirt clod struck Verdandi in the back, causing the dark haired girl to turn. But instead of an angry glare there was an odd smile that made Skuld uneasy. When a laugh worked its way through the older girl, Skuld swallowed nervously.

“What's so funny?” she asked cautiously.

Verdandi smiled as she looked at her sibling. “Did you see the look on that woman's face when I told her about her son?”

Skuld rolled her eyes and pushed away from the wall as Verdandi laughed. “I can't believe you.”

“It was the truth and you know it.” The older girl watched her sister walk away, finally getting to her feet. “He got a fair warning.”

“Worst kids ever!” Skuld shouted back over her shoulder.

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” Verdandi mumbled as she ran to catch up.

~*~

Urd watched quietly as Sam and Dean worked to unearth Marcus Ballard, pulling her knees up to her chest as they dug.

It had been a short drive further up the dirt road to the farmhouse even with Dean taking the pock marked road slowly. Urd had sat silently in the back of the car watching the field pass by while the brothers took in the surroundings ahead of them, neither of them really speaking. Only when the house came into view did anyone say anything; Dean's whole “that's not creepy at all” getting a small smile from the goddess.

The house had looked like a monster coming around the last broken remnants of a field-stone wall and a row of long neglected lilac bushes someone had planted. The wooden home stood dark against the encroaching trees and over-grown yard, empty windows staring out at them like a dozen vacant eyes. It had probably looked decent years ago when it was painted, no doubt white, before time had taken its toll and stripped away the color; the elements and age turning the exposed boards black. The wrap-around porch was covered in a tangled mess of ivy and blooming flowers that waged a silent war against the darkened wood and blotted out all but the barest hint of the “gingerbread” decorations at the corner of each post. One could only guess as to what it looked like after dark when the sisters had come across it.

Dean had brought the Impala to a stop in the over-grown yard and had looked long at the property before shutting the engine off and stepping out. Maybe his pause was out of habit, Urd wasn't sure, but his eyes had scanned every visible part before he stepped out with Sam not far behind. But from the backseat of the car looking out, she could understand the caution.

The house wasn't the only dark behemoth looming on the property but it was the first thing one noticed pulling up the drive. In the daylight it was easy to see the decrepit looking barn that stood in the distance, the massive doors worn at the edges and broken as the barest stain of red paint clung to the blackened boards. Broken pieces of fencing branched off from the barn and stretched out into a long forgotten pasture beyond, small bushes and patches of wild flowers dotting the landscape. As one’s eyes panned across the barnyard the remains of a handful of out buildings could be seen further back from the house. There was a stable, its once sturdy roof beginning to sag at its north end. Closer to the house was a chicken coop that had seen better days, a rusted water pump that had long since ceased to function and the rotted remains of a clothes line.

The boys had taken a look around while she had stayed with the car. Urd had seen it all before, both in sunlight and moonlight, and hadn't really been in the mood to explore it all again. So she had waited, feeling more comfortable staying with the car while they took a quick look around.

Eventually though the exploring had brought them to this point; Sam and Dean digging up a poor man's body from beneath an old Oak while Urd watched.

Dean tossed a shovel-full of dirt over his shoulder, pausing to rest against the handle as he looked at his brother. “Put your back into it, princess.”

Sam huffed as he stabbed at the ground, glaring across the grave. “Dean.”

“What?” Dean gave a shrug as he nodded toward the hole. “I'm delegating.”

“Dean.” Urd's voice held a hint of annoyance as she watched the pair, her eyes locking on the older man. “Bodies don't unbury themselves. So chop chop.” She emphasized the comment with a clap and a smile that made the man cringe.

He turned to look at the woman with a raised eyebrow. “You're the one that buried him.”

“True.” She nodded and sat up with a sigh, pursing her lips. “We did bury him.”

“Then shouldn't you be helping dig him up?” Dean asked evenly.

Urd let her eyes travel to the patch of upturned earth she had led them to before glancing back to the man. “I showed you where he was. Besides, you only had two shovels in your trunk.”

Dean's eyes narrowed and his glare was cold, staring at the woman. “You could help a little more.”

“I am,” she answered calmly. “I'm supervising. Help Sam and stop bitching.”

Sam chuckled, plunging his shovel in the dirt before he paused. “Dean. I could use some help here.”

Urd motioned toward the base of the tree, waving the young man off. “You'd think you never dug a grave before.”

Dean's grip tightened on the shovel's handle and his jaw clenched. “That's it.”

“Dean,” Sam called, warning in his voice. “Come help.”

He practically growled as he turned, stabbing at the ground. “I will be so glad when this is over and we don't have to deal with her.”

“I can hear you, Dean,” Urd muttered.

“I know.” Dean's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he tossed a shovel of dirt over his shoulder toward her. “That's why I said it.”

Sam shook his head and shot an un-amused look at his brother, plunging his shovel into the loose ground. “I swear it’s like watching a couple kids with you two.”

Urd couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her at Sam's comment, Dean's expression falling slack. “Shut up, Sam.”

They started working at the dirt once more, hurling shovels-full of soil and rocks over their shoulders without so much as a word. There was still a tangible amount of tension in the air, namely between Dean and Urd, but it was easy enough to work around. It even seemed to make Dean work a little harder.

It had only been a matter of time before one of them would find something. Between the two of them and how much progress they were making one of them was bound to strike sooner or later. It was a sickening wet sound when Sam's shovel reentered the earth that finally signaled their discovery.

“There he is.” Urd sat up as the pair cast the shovels aside. “Your missing man.”

Both men had cringed at the stomach churning sound but continued working to unearth the body. Climbing into the hole to carefully remove the dirt wasn't the most appealing idea but it was better than tearing him apart with the shovels; they both knew that. This was just another glamorous part of a hunter's life.

The smell was the first thing they noticed. The heavy scent of earth gave way to the distinct odor of rotting flesh as handfuls of dirt were pushed aside. It hung heavy around the grave as the first shreds of dingy white fabric appeared beneath the soil.

Urd got to her feet as the stained white sheet came into view and Dean climbed from the grave, Sam tugging the fabric from the still packed dirt. “He didn't deserve this.”

“You wrapped him up?” Dean questioned.

The young woman gave a nod as the sheet was carefully pulled away from Ballard's body, looking toward Dean. “We weren't just going to throw him in the ground like he was trash. The man deserved better than that.”

Sam carefully pulled the sheet back from Ballard's face, cringing noticeably. “He definitely deserved better than he got.”

Time had taken its toll on the young father's body the same way it did on all bodies. His skin had become black in areas from bacteria building up and had split open at some point, the sheet covering him as well as his clothes helping wick some of the escaping fluids into the surrounding soil. Being buried had kept the animals from him and, by the looks of it, slowed his decay somewhat. His red-blonde hair was matted with a mixture of blood, odd bodily fluid and mud that plastered the locks against his head; the same mixture streaking his face. He may not have looked well for a dead man but at least he was recognizable.

Sam brought a sleeve to his nose as he examined Ballard, clearing his throat. “Poor guy.”

“Not the type of closure his family is looking for,” Dean said gently.

Urd looked down at the body, her expression saddened. “But at least it’s something.”

The words, though true, were sad. In this line of work you couldn't save everyone and most times the bad news outweighed the good. But sometimes there was a chance at giving someone some type of closure. And while this may not have been the outcome Ballard's family wanted, it did offer them something.

Sam gave the body a quick once over before he climbed out of the grave, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “His throat is slit.”

“It's slit?” Dean questioned, looking into the grave. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, grateful for the slightly better smelling air. His face was twisted in disgust as he glanced at his hands, wishing he had something to help get the grimy feeling off. “It's deep too. I'm surprised I couldn't see straight to the bone.”

Dean motioned toward the body as he turned to the woman beside him. “And you're sure he's not one of yours, right?”

Urd straightened, an eyebrow arching as she looked at him. “We draw the line at personally slitting a man's throat, Dean. We found him like that.”

“Middle of nowhere, throat slit.” Dean glanced at the property around them, eyes falling on the darkened house. “Creepy, rundown house. Now all we need is some guy in a scary mask with an ax and we have the makings of a horror movie.”

Urd hugged herself as she backed away from the grave with a shake of her head. “Yeah, well this movie sucks.”

“No argument here.” Sam made one last attempt at wiping his hands clean on his jeans before he made his way toward the young woman. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy. Thanks for asking,” she mumbled. Her eyes moved from the grave to Sam. “What happens now?”

Dean reached into his pocket to grab his cellphone, his tone somber. “We make sure he gets back to his family.”

Urd watched Dean open his phone before she turned her attention back to Sam. “So this is what you hunters do besides kill things?”

“Sometimes.” Sam gave the goddess a small smile and shrug. “But in the end, it’s all to help.”

There was a snap as Dean shut his phone with a slight huff, Sam and Urd turning their attention to him. “I can't get a signal out here.”

“Why am I not surprised by that statement?” She took a deep breath as her eyes moved between the brothers. “So we're just going to leave him planted here?”

“Just until we can call the local police.” There was a pause as Dean looked around the property before glancing back at Ballard's grave. “Anonymous tip by some guy walking in the woods out here should do it.”

She raised an eyebrow and laughed at the comment. “Anonymous, huh?”

Dean's lips pulled into a cocky grin, moving for the shovels. “Hey, we go with what works.”

She rolled her eyes as Dean carefully flipped the sheet back over Ballard's face with his shovel, Sam picking up his own.

The shovels cutting through the soil and the thump of each load of dirt being thrown into the grave filled the air once more. This second more temporary burial was more rushed than what the sisters had given the poor man; the care the three had taken to lay the man to rest replaced with the purpose of police finding him. Even with that purpose in mind it was easy to look at the hasty job as somewhat disrespectful to Ballard somehow.

Urd watched the final shovel of dirt land on the grave, cocking her head slightly. “So you think they'll be able to spot this? I mean it’s not exactly easy to find back here.”

Sam slung his shovel over his shoulder as Dean finished up the burial. “Don't worry. They'll find him.”

“Good.” She nodded quickly as she turned and walked to the car. “His family has been through enough. Last thing they need is to lose him out here because of a blind deputy.”

Dean knocked his shovel clean and followed the blonde, Sam falling in step beside him. “I think a fresh grave will grab someone's attention.”

The young woman stopped at the Impala's passenger door, brushing down the front of Dean's shirt she still wore as the boys deposited the shovels in the trunk. Her face turned skyward and her hands slipped into her pockets, the car's door warm against her legs. She could hear every move the men made at the trunk, pushing her hand through her hair.

“So, Urd,” Dean called, closing the trunk. “When are you gonna give me my shirt back?”

Her eyes shifted toward Dean as he came around the car. “When you buy me a new one to replace the one you shot a hole in.”

Sam cleared his throat to get the woman's attention as he neared. “I know the collars are a sore spot but do you mind me asking something?”

Her answer was a simple nod, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“A collar means a master and you said yourself that someone was using you as a hit squad.” Sam watched her nod again, carefully continuing. “Who's your master?”

Urd let out a chuckle as she pushed away from the car. “Some bitch named Kim. Homely as hell. Verdandi swears its a man in bad drag.”

Dean couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips. “You've got to be kidding on that one.”

“No.” She shook her head and looked at the men calmly. “She honestly thinks that. But with Verdandi, sometimes the filter between her brain and mouth shuts down so she has a bad habit of blurting things out that she shouldn't.”

Sam's eyes shifted toward Dean for a moment before he looked back to Urd. “I've known a couple people like that before.”

Dean's smirk faded as he turned to look at his brother, raising an eyebrow as he straightened.

“I bet.” Urd smiled as she eyed Dean. “Most of us with siblings do.”

Annoyance crossed Dean's face and his jaw set as he took an even breath. “Can we please get back to the whole master thing before I end up shooting you both?”

Urd's smile remained, rolling her eyes. “Again with the gun thing.”

“Call it a bad sibling habit,” Dean growled.

“Fine.” Her smile faded as she threw up her hands. “All we really know is her name is Kim and she lives on Pine St. When we searched her house, we couldn't find much on her.”

Both men gave her an off look at her last comment, Dean speaking up. “You searched her house?”

“The first time we saw her, she had a book with her and these damn symbols you humans have associated with us.” She put a hand on her hip, motioning toward her collar. “Like the neck ware wasn't bad enough.”

Sam's expression darkened as she spoke, Dean catching the change out of the corner of his eye. The mention of a book and symbols of the sisters along with the collars wasn't painting a better picture of the situation. Dean may not have been the whole library research type but even he could spot a spell red flag when he heard it.

“We've been looking for that book. So far, all we found was a bunch of cookbooks, an answering machine message with her name in it and a lot of frustration.” She paused, her eyes closing. “We've been around long enough to realize that damn book has something to do with us being here.”

The conversation halted as Urd's eyes opened and moved across the yard and buildings.

There were still no sounds around them; no bird songs or rustle of a breeze like there should have been. Just as it had been back at the road, the air was uncommonly still. Ballard's grave did little more than add to the heaviness that pressed down on all of them.

Dean cleared his throat, getting the woman's attention. “Hate to say it but you might be right about that book you're looking for.”

“I was afraid you'd say that,” Urd breathed.

“The collars, how you ended up here, and the boundaries all point to a summoning spell.” Sam motioned over Urd's shoulder toward the grave. “And I'm sure you've already gotten an idea about Ballard.”

Urd nodded solemnly. “My best guess was sacrificial offering. Like we eat you humans with a nice Chianti and Fava beans.”

A smile tugged at Dean's lips with the statement, Sam shaking his head.

“Why you humans think all gods have a habit of snacking on you, I'll never know,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“At any rate,” Sam interrupted. “If we're right and it is a spell from that book you saw, then it can be broken.”

The wave of relief that washed over Urd was noticeable. Her eyes softened and her shoulders relaxed as she leaned against the car. There was even a hint of a relaxed smile on her lips.

“But it may take some time,” Sam added.

“And we'll need that book if we can find it,” Dean pointed out.

“Good luck with finding it.” Urd pushed away from the car, kicking at a rock. “We ain't found sh-”

The casual conversation came to an abrupt halt as the pair saw the woman's eyes widen. Her lips moved to speak but no sound came out as panicked blue locked on both men. Her fingers moved to the ring at her throat, falling to her knees in the grass.

“Urd?” Sam was first to close the gap, joining the young woman on the ground. “Urd!”

Dean practically slid to a kneel next to her, hearing her gasp for breath that would not come. “What the hell?”

Sam's fingers moved to the iron ring but found no room to grab hold of it. “It's the collar.”

Urd's expression became pained the moment before she vanished, leaving the pair kneeling beside the car.

“Where'd she go?” Dean's eyes moved from where Urd had been to his brother as they remained on the ground. “What just happened?”

At first Sam looked just as confused as his brother. He stared at the imprints Urd had left in the grass, his mind working out just what they had witnessed. When the full scope of it had finally become clear, the confusion painting his face gave way to shocked realization.

“Sammy?” Dean knew his little brother's facial expressions well enough to know he wasn't going to like what was on the younger man's mind. “What is it?”

“She's been with us the whole day, Dean. She fought that collar before she vanished. The only reason she'd leave like that is if someone was going to die.” Sam pushed himself up, his tone deadly serious. “We've got to get back to town. Now.”

Dean rose and fished his keys from his pocket, heading toward the driver's door. “Think she's back in town somewhere?”

“I think she's where ever that Kim lady she was talking about sent her,” Sam answered.


	15. Chapter 15

Urd's eyes traveled around the home's small kitchen as she let out a heavy sigh.

Another name on a never ending hit list. It was unbelievable how many people had ended up on the bad side of this Kim woman. At the rate the names were being given to them it wouldn't be long before half the town would be wiped out.

This wasn't the most ominous setting they had seen. The white and blue tiled kitchen wasn't exactly screaming death trap or anything. Mostly, it just looked like a Better Homes and Garden's photoshoot. A couple of hand towels hanging from the stove, a clutter-free counter with blue ceramic containers, even stainless steel appliances and a center island counter. It was like standing in the middle of some kitchen showroom somewhere. All that was needed was some overly cheerful salesperson and the illusion would be perfect.

“Urd!” Skuld's cheerful sounding voice was the only warning the woman got before she was tackled from behind. “You're okay!”

Urd groaned as her sister hugged her tightly, feeling her wounded shoulder throb as she was lifted off the ground. “Stop trying to break me in half.”

Behind her, Skuld opened her eyes and loosened her grip. Excitement had gotten the better of her when she had seen the blonde standing with Verdandi and herself. The urge to hug her and make sure she really was there just couldn't be ignored in her mind. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

Verdandi watched the exchange from the kitchen table as Urd brought a hand to her shoulder. “Excuse me if I don't leap up and squeeze the life outta you.”

Urd waved her sister off as she patted Skuld on the shoulder. “Thanks for the hug, Skuld, but I ain't been gone that long.”

“Long enough,” Verdandi muttered.

Skuld stepped back and took a long look at her eldest sister, cocking her head slightly in confusion.

“Long enough?” Urd let her eyes travel to the dark-haired woman as she raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine.”

Verdandi pushed herself up from the small table with a shrug and a sigh. “It's been a long day.”

The comment got an odd look from Urd, her eyes following the woman. The annoyed sounding sigh and indignant little shrug was usual for Verdandi but it was the way she spoke that made Urd pause. She knew the tone of her voice, that dismissive inflection she slipped into so easily when something was up, that was a dead giveaway to the older woman that her sister was hiding something.

“What happened while I was gone?” Urd questioned evenly.

“Nothing.” Verdandi wandered over to the stove, running her fingers along the range. “We just had breakfast.”

Urd raised a disbelieving eyebrow as a skeptical noise sounded in her throat and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Everything is fine.” Verdandi gave her sister a smile as she turned, doing her best to ignore the stern look on her sibling's face. “Why do you always assume the worst with us?”

“Because I know you two,” Urd replied with a hiss.

Beside her, Skuld reached out to tentatively touch her sister's shirt. “Where'd you get this?”

A quick slap at her hand and Skuld backed away slightly as Urd shot her an annoyed look. “None of your business.”

Verdandi's eyes traveled to the gray-green shirt that hung loosely around her sister. She hadn't noticed the dark cotton garment when they had been summoned but, in her defense, it had been dark. But now, standing in their latest job's kitchen, it wasn't so easily overlooked. “Did you steal a hunter's shirt?”

“I think she did.” Skuld reached out to give the fabric a tug, Urd rolling her eyes. “Why are you taking a hunter's clothing?”

“Oh dear god,” Urd groaned.

A deep breath and almost enthusiastic clap brought the two sets of blue eyes to Verdandi, a wide smile on her lips. “Ah the joys of a family reunion. How about we ice this bitch and continue this elsewhere. Whose with me?”

Urd slapped Skuld's hand away once more, her jaw setting. “First, knock it off, Skuld. I don't mess with your clothes so stop messing with mine.”

“You're touchy when you steal other people's clothing,” Skuld mumbled, backing away.

“It's not stolen, its borrowed,” Urd countered.

Verdandi rested her elbows against the counter with a grin. “Borrowed, huh? Whatever helps you sleep at night I guess.”

“Second, call these people the appropriate name.” Urd's eyes leveled on the woman at the counter. “They are victims.”

There was a noise above them as the home's owner, a slightly portly, short-haired red-head with glasses that had been introduced to them by photograph named Anne Yost, went about her business. The three women glanced toward the ceiling as the creak of floorboards filtered down from above, a signal of their target's movements. And just like all the others before her, she had no idea they were there.

“Fine. Can we finish the stupid job we were ordered to do so we can go back to focusing on our two main problems,” Verdandi offered. She raised her index and middle fingers, wiggling each for emphasis. “Getting the hell outta here and those damn hunters.”

“Look on the bright side, we don't have to come up with a daring rescue.” Skuld nodded and moved for the small kitchen table. “And you won't have to carjack anyone.”

“Wait, what?” Urd straightened and looked at her youngest sister. “What do you mean carjack?”

A warning glare leveled on Skuld from Verdandi's spot that made the white-haired woman uneasy, the added mouthing of “shut up” only making it worse.

Urd hadn't even been back with her sister's a full five minutes and already she knew something was wrong. It wasn't so much “end of the world” wrong as a kind of “oops, we ruined your favorite outfit” wrong. What made it worse was the fact that Skuld was even in on it. With Verdandi, it was a given that she'd be behind something but not Skuld; at least not to Verdandi's level.

“That's it. You two are talking even if I have to beat it out of you.” Urd's voice was stern, her eyes moving between the two women. “Now what the hell is going on? Talk!”

Verdandi made her way around the counter to stand in front of Urd. “We just made rescue plans to get you away from the hunters.”

“And to take their car,” Skuld mumbled.

“Skuld, shut it,” Verdandi growled, pointing toward the younger woman with a snap of her fingers. “Just shut it.”

Skuld shrunk back, biting her lip as she watched the other two.

“If I had known all it would take to get you away from them was the bitch wanting someone else killed, I would have suggested targets to her from the start,” Verdandi muttered.

Skuld remained silent, her eyes traveling to the ceiling and the sound of movement above.

“You don't suggest anything to her. Period. Got that?” Urd said sternly. She paused briefly, letting out a sigh as she chose her words. “And I ain't asking you to save me so you can forget your little plans.”

Confusion washed over both Skuld and Verdandi as they looked at her. It was an odd request to make; to not be saved by your own sisters. But it was more an order than a request the way Urd had said it. The bite to her voice as she spoke was an unmistakable order to each of them.

Verdandi's eyes were cold as she looked at Urd, her expression harsh. The order hadn't been lost on her, which had touched a nerve in and of itself, but it hadn't been the only thing. Urd had said “asking”; present tense not past. That one small word tense spoke volumes even if Urd didn't.

“You aren't asking?” Verdandi watched Urd for any hint of a flinch before she gave voice to the thought in her head. “You're going back to the hunters, aren't you?”

Skuld's eyes drifted to the blonde, slowly standing. “Urd?”

“If I am, its my choice.” Urd looked at both women in turn, keeping her voice even. “And you don't do any half-assed rescue plans to screw things up.”

Neither Skuld nor Verdandi was liking how this was sounding. First the order and now the chance she'd go back to the hunters once this new job was finished. Hunters couldn't be trusted from their personal experience and yet here was their sister saying she'd head back to the pair who probably had more weapons on them than the local cops. The same woman who had said to be careful of them was now spending her free time with the two hunters.

“Why would you go back to the hunters? We're on their hit list,” Skuld questioned.

Urd turned to look Skuld in the eyes, her voice calm. “Trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing.”

Skuld said nothing as they were joined by their target, finally giving the blonde a nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” The annoyance was clear in Verdandi's tone, her voice raising. “That's it?”

Urd sighed as the red-head moved around the kitchen behind them, feeling the gossamer line dance around her fingers.

“This ain't okay. Not by a long-shot.” Verdandi reached out and grabbed Urd's left shoulder, turning her with a push. “Did you go with them voluntarily before?”

A sharp intake of breath and a pained flinch as Verdandi pressed against Urd's wound made the younger sisters pause. Verdandi's hand pulled back and her eyes moved to the square that was barely noticeable beneath the dark cotton. When Urd's right hand clutched her shoulder protectively, worry began to creep into the face of both women.

“What happened? What's wrong with your shoulder?” Skuld questioned as she moved to get a look.

“I'm fine.” Urd backed up a step, her hand closing around the thread while Anne Yost worked behind them. “Can we just do this job already?”

“Fine my Pagan ass,” Verdandi snapped. She pointed at Urd's shoulder, shaking her head. “What did those two assholes do to you?”

Urd huffed, her expression cold. “Never fucking mind. It's not important.”

“You're hurt. I'd say that's really important,” Skuld commented.

Verdandi glanced toward Anne as the woman turned on her stove, pinching the thread in Urd's fingers quickly. “What the hell is going on?”

“I got shot! Okay? Ya happy now?” Urd watched Verdandi's attention snap back to her with the answer. “They found me in the bookstore, there was a chase and I got shot.”

Skuld paled noticeably beside her sister, her eyes huge. “And you're going back?”

“I'm gonna kill 'em. No one will ever find the bodies,” Verdandi growled.

“You aren't touching the boys,” Urd yelled, making Skuld jump.

At the counter, Anne paused her onion chopping to glance around the room. For a split second she had thought she heard a voice behind her, like the barest hint of an angry yell. The quick glance had only proven she was alone in the room.

“The boys? You're gettin' friendly with the pricks who shot you now?” Verdandi asked, her voice still laced with venom.

“I'm here, aren't I? I'm not locked up or tied down, my wound is patched up and I'm here. If they couldn't be trusted, don't you think this would have a different outcome, Verdandi?” Urd stared down her sister, a harsh bite to her voice. “So yeah, I'm getting friendly with them.”

Skuld moved to stand beside Verdandi, giving Urd a once over. “Do you have Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Excuse me?” Urd gave her sister an odd look at the question, straightening slightly. “What kind of question is that?”

“I'm just asking,” Skuld mumbled, shrinking back behind Verdandi. “Cause it looks like Stockholm Syndrome.”

“I don't have Stockholm Syndrome!” Urd protested, glaring at the pair. “Those two are helping us.”

Verdandi and Skuld exchanged an odd look, both speaking at once. “What?”

“They are helping us,” Urd repeated. She waited for the words to sink in before she continued. “They know my human contact. He vouched for me and, he in turn, vouched for them. I asked them to help us get out of this damn place.”

“They shot you,” Verdandi pointed out.

“And they patched me up. Even before they called my contact,” Urd countered.

Verdandi looked skeptical as Skuld chewed on her index fingernail. She was not the most trusting of the trio when it came to humans in general. A couple of centuries dealing with the petty actions of handfuls of them had jaded her to their species. Some had managed, on occasion, to get on her good side but those had been few and far between. And none of them had been hunters.

“So they're really helping us?” Skuld asked hesitantly.

Urd answered with a nod.

“I don't trust them.” Verdandi's voice was a hiss as she watched her older sister. “They're hunters.”

Urd let out a huff, leveling a harsh gaze on the black haired woman. “Well tough.”

The tension between the two grew thick as Verdandi stepped into Urd's personal space. “They kill our kind.”

“You really want to be the killing machine for that bitch?” The question was simple but Verdandi didn't reply. Not that it would matter. “Then stop bitching and let them help us.”

Verdandi's expression was cold as the pair stared each other down.

“Now suck it up and deal, princess,” Urd growled.

Verdandi was about to say exactly what was on her mind about her sister when a new voice startled them all; the near shriek making the trio jump.

“Who are you?” Anne Yost's eyes were wide as she stared at the three women standing in her kitchen, her knife pointed at them. “Who the hell are you?”

Three shocked sets of blue eyes locked on the panicked woman, the bickering instantly dying.

“She can see us?” Verdandi cocked her head slightly, watching the woman tremble where she stood. “How the hell can she see us?”

Urd's gaze never left the blade being waved at them, her fingers tightening around the woman's thread. “Skuld!”

“Oh right.” The gasp the white-haired woman let out was almost an afterthought as she reached for the thread. “Sorry.”

Urd's eyes closed and she shook her head as Verdandi turned a disbelieving gaze at her young sister. “Are you serious?”

Skuld's fingers pinched the thread and sent its end flying into the woman's body. “I said sorry.”

The last tiny shimmer of thread vanished into the woman's chest as she kept the knife pointed at the trio, the shake in her movements the last thing they caught before chaos took hold.

The almost inaudible hiss coming from the stove was drown out by the refrigerator's compressor kicking on with a spark. With that one tiny spark the gas that had been filling the room ignited in a yellow-orange ball of flame. The four bodies were engulfed by the searing heat a split second before the kitchen's main gas line ruptured, blowing the back half of the house to pieces.

Broken glass crunched beneath the young women's shoes as they stepped from the burning wreckage and moved across the debris scattered yard.

“So what now?” Verdandi followed Urd across the yard, kicking a charred foot out of her way. “You go back and play nice with the hunters while we sit by with our thumbs up our asses?”

Urd turned on her heel at the words, her gaze harsh. “You two can do whatever you want in this backwater town as long as it doesn't involve the hunters.”

Skuld moved to stand just behind Verdandi as the first screams of approaching sirens hit her ears.

“You can go have some random sexfest with a local for all I care. But you do not, under any circumstances, go after those two boys.” Urd let her eyes travel to both women as she kept her voice stern. “Do you understand?”

The pair gave a nod but said nothing, the screaming sirens converging on the small two-story.

“Good.” Urd straightened as she eyed Verdandi, leveling a finger at her. “This is your only warning.”

Skuld took a sudden interest in the piece of flaming window frame at her feet while Verdandi stood silent, Urd changing form and taking to the sky. Her attention shifted when the beat of wings was well out of earshot. A quick glance toward the approaching voices and she was at her sister's elbow.

“This is your only warning,” Verdandi mocked, her eyes narrowing.

“So this knocks out your rescue plan.” Skuld paused, shrugging as she thought. “And your carjacking plan.”

Verdandi shook her head, waving off the comments. “Oh no. She don't just get away with all that crap.”

“But she said leave the hunters alone,” Skuld commented.

“Yeah well, that's bullshit.” The black-haired woman stormed unseen past the small team of first responders, raising a defiant finger above her head. “I will find out whats going on. Even if it kills them!”

Skuld's shoulders sagged with a huff, the yard beginning to fill with fire rescue workers. “You can't touch them.” She hung her head with a frustrated groan, frustration quickly turning to revulsion as she spotted an eyeball beside her foot. “Oh my god!”

~*~

Dean tossed his keys on the motel room's table as he and Sam walked inside, letting out a tired sounding sigh.

Their day wasn't even close to being over and it was already bordering on exhausting, both mentally and physically. Burying a body and digging up a grave was normal when it came to their job, lying to a 911 operator was par for the course too. But doing the job with a goddess to contend with made it a little more stressful especially when she vanished to kill people with her sisters.

There hadn't been much left of the latest victim's house when the two had pulled up to it, the local fire department was drowning the smoldering remains of the two-story building. Milling around the gawkers outside the police cordon had given them a vague idea of what had happened or at least what people in town thought had happened. Local consensus was a gas leak had ripped through the house; the local police even evacuated the block until the gas company had shut off the line. And maybe local opinion had been correct but there was only one person who could honestly put it to rest. Unfortunately, neither man had seen her at the house.

“That was not a pretty way to go,” Dean muttered as he made his way to the fridge.

Sam shook his head and had a seat at the table. “No, it wasn't.”

Dean pulled a couple beers from the fridge and handed one over to his brother before tossing his cap in the sink. “They've probably found Ballard by now.”

Sam nodded, looking at the bottle in his hand.

“So some Kim chick manages to trap and collar the Fates to blow up people. Why?” Dean mused.

Soft footfalls made both men look up toward the bedroom and the blonde standing in the doorway. “Don't really know but I wish it would stop.”

Dean stepped from the tiny kitchen as Sam got to his feet, both men watching her walk toward the couch.

“And I'm sure this town will be happy to see us go,” she commented, throwing herself on the cushions.

The boys exchanged a glance before Sam spoke, Dean shaking his head. “What happened?”

A graceful hand rose as she lay face down on the couch, her voice muffled by the tacky throw pillow. “Gas leak, refrigerator compressor, boom. In that order.”

“And that's normal for you?” Dean questioned. “Taking out people with appliances?”

Urd let her arm fall over the edge of the couch, turning her head on the pillow to face them. “Actually, yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes and moved for the small table, taking a drink from his bottle.

“What about Ballard?” She looked toward Sam, rolling over on to her side. “Did you call on him?”

“Just before the explosion,” he answered with a nod. “Anonymous tip.”

Urd chuckled, tucking the throw pillow under her chin. “Gotta love anonymous tips.”

Dean considered his beer bottle for a moment before he looked toward Urd. “Two dead bodies in one day. You three are really making the cops here earn their pay.”

She gave a small shrug, stretching out. “We can't really help it. Don't really have a choice in the matter.”

“And hopefully we can fix that part soon.” Sam said with a sigh.

“But now we have leads to sort through.” Dean set his beer down on the table as Sam took a seat. “Like who owns that farm.”

Sam nodded, picking at his beer label. “Plus there's that Lund woman we heard about at the coffeehouse. Haven't questioned her yet.”

Urd sat up with a groan, pulling her knees to her chest. “Who's that?”

“The last person to see Ballard alive. Or at least we think the last person,” Sam answered. He sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on the tabletop. “Before we ran into you, we questioned one of Ballard's friends who said they saw this Kimberly Lund woman at the bar they were at staring at Ballard.”

“Her name is Kimberly?” The tone of her voice mirrored the surprise on her face as she looked at the pair. “And she last saw him?”

Dean raised a hand at the rising excitement in Urd's voice, his own expression clouding slightly. “Whoa. I know the chick's name is Kim but none of us know if this lady is the same one who has you on the short leash.” He gave a terse little shrug, shaking his head. “You don't even know your “master's” last name.”

“Why, Dean, I had no idea you were versed in Dom/sub culture.” Urd cocked her head and gave the young man a stoic smile. “You struck me as more vanilla than anything.”

Sam said nothing, his brow furrowing. The normally smooth skin of his face pulled into an awkward grimace as his hand absently scratched at the back of his head. His gaze was focused resolutely on his shoes and away from the bickering duo, his mind quickly working on defusing the current situation.

“We don't even know how many people named Kim live in this town,” Sam added, quickly cutting off any comment his brother was about to say. “It could be a different woman.”

Dean glared at the goddess from the table, trying to push back the urge to shoot her again.

“There are eleven women in this town named Kim and four of them live on Pine St.,” Urd explained.

“How do you know your Kim lives on Pine?” Sam questioned.

Urd thought back to the search of Kim's house, resting her chin on her knees. “There was a flyer for the Pine Street Neighborhood Watch on the fridge. In my experience, you only get those when you live in the neighborhood.”

A heavy tension-filled silence settled over the room, Sam considering her words as Dean continued to glare.

“Kinda easy to rule out the others at that point,” she mumbled.

Dean took a long drag off his beer before putting the bottle down and clearing his throat. There was a bite to his voice and a clear glimmer of annoyance in his eyes when he spoke that was leveled at the blonde on the couch. He was doing his best to push back the strong urge to empty a clip into her; it was bad enough people thought he was gay, which wasn't that big of a deal at this point, but being called vanilla was crossing the line.

“That still doesn't help us figure out why your Kim is killing people, who's next and how she managed to find a spell strong enough to collar your annoying ass.”

“Well I'm sorry it didn't dawn on me to ask this last one how she ended up on a shit list as her jaw flew past me,” Urd stated flatly. “I'll try to remember the pre-killing banter next time.”

Sam held up a hand silencing both as his eyes moved between the two. “Let's try to remember peoples lives are at stake, okay?” He leveled a calm gaze toward his brother, managing to pull his attention from the blonde before the two started a fight. “If this was any other job, Dean, where would we start first?”

“The Lund woman. See if she's involved with Ballard's death or just wrong place, wrong time with her.” He shot Urd a sidelong glare before he shifted his attention back to Sam. “Then tackle who owns that farmhouse.”

Urd was motionless on the couch as her eyes moved between the pair. “How are you gonna question that Lund woman?”

There was still a bite in Dean's voice as he answered but it was beginning to subside as he slipped further into job mode. “With Ballard dead, the missing person case officially turns to a murder case. First step in those most times is to talk to the last people to see the victim and those who knew him.”

Urd listened intently, her eyes traveling between the pair.

“Easiest way for investigating officers to get clues and the occasional suspect,” Sam added. “And it may rule out that Kim as the one keeping you and your sisters here.”

“So I'm going with you?” she questioned innocently.

Dean finished his beer and set the bottle aside. “No, you're not.”

“What?” Her voice held a hint of surprise as Urd's feet hit the floor and she sat forward. “Why not? I've seen her face. I can identify her.”

“And this is why you're not going.” Dean spoke as f he were scolding a child and not talking to a goddess. “She's seen you too. If she sees you suddenly hanging around a couple guys asking questions, she's gonna get suspicious.”

All Urd did in response was let out a disappointed sigh while the young man stood.

“We, meaning Sam and I, will go check this woman out. You are going to stay here.” He motioned from himself and Sam to her as she sat on the couch. “We go, you stay. That's it.”

She sat back, picking at the ugly fabric. “Fine.”

Dean watched her for a moment before he turned from the table, heading for the bedroom. “I'm gonna grab a quick shower. We'll head out in an hour or so, Sammy.”

Sam let his attention settle on Urd, watching her pull a thread from the sofa. “Dean has a point, you know.”

She glanced up, flicking the piece of string on the floor. “She's only seen me in one form, Sam, and that's this one. She doesn't even know about the others as far as I can figure.”

“Still its probably best if you stayed here while we go talk to her,” he offered. “Two 'agents' questioning her is more believable than three.”

Her eyebrow arched gracefully and her head cocked slightly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “How do you two plan on ruling her out then?”

“I'll try getting a picture of her on my phone while we're there so you can see her,” Sam answered.

She gave him a small nod and sat back. Their plan was good for what it was worth but that was their idea. She had others.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean's eyes moved to the street signs as they drove through town, Sam looking over the small notebook in his hands.

He was beginning to notice a pattern the more he and Sam moved through town. Maybe it was just him, some side effect of being on the road too long, but all the streets looked the same. No matter what cozy little name they got, it was just one mirror image street after another. The houses may have been different from the next but it was the same damn landscape over and over again.

“So what, if anything, did you find out about his Kim lady?” Dean questioned, watching the signs pass.

Sam shook his head, closing the notebook. “Not much outside of a Pine St. address.”

“Bet Urd loved that one,” the older man muttered.

“She didn't tag along, Dean.” Sam looked toward his brother with a heavy sigh and an annoyed look. “Give her a little credit.”

Dean let out a disbelieving huff. “That's gotta be a first. A goddess taking orders from a hunter.”

“Just like a goddess asking a hunter for help,” Sam commented, looking down at the notebook. “Firsts all around.”

The conversation paused as they stopped at the light to turn, Dean's fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “So nothing but an address?”

“Not really. I can do a better search when we get back to the motel,” Sam answered.

Dean's fingers continued the random tapping as the light changed and they turned left, brow knitting. “Any ideas on how to get the three out of town?”

“Without being able to see what kind of spell brought them here, I have no idea where to even start.” Sam looked out the front window as he spoke, watching the houses move into view. “And with what we saw in that field, I wouldn't want to risk guessing.”

Dean thought back to the crater in the middle of nowhere. He still couldn't help cringing inwardly when he began to equate Urd's slender body, times three, with that hole in the ground. If he thought about it long enough it would probably make him subconsciously hurt.

“I'd rather know what we're dealing with spell-wise than put the Fates through needless and possibly painful breaking attempts,” Sam continued.

The Impala slowed as Dean made a right onto Pine, both men looking at the houses.

“Should we be looking for a house surrounded by dead trees with lightning crashing around it?” Dean questioned.

Sam rolled his eyes, reading the house numbers. “4615.”

Dean shrugged as he scanned the opposite side of the street. “Just a suggestion.”

Halfway down the street they spotted the house, Dean bringing the car to a stop two driveways down.

“Doesn't exactly scream epicenter of evil.” Dean let his eyes move down the road to the neatly kept homes as they stepped from the car. “Maybe Urd was wrong about the whole Pine St. thing.”

Sam tucked the notebook into his jacket pocket and double checked his badge before he looked toward his brother. “Maybe not.”

Dean turned his head to look back the way they came as Sam spoke.

“I mean think about it, Dean. Who would suspect someone living on a street like this to be controlling the goddesses of Fate and having them kill?” He walked around the trunk to join Dean as he straightened his jacket. “They're hiding in plain sight.”

Dean gave a small shrug, adjusting his tie. “Doesn't explain how Susie Homemaker can drag a trio of Pagan gods here though.”

The comment got little more than a shrug from Sam as they crossed the street.

“You have got to be seriously screwed up to use gods as a personal kill squad,” Dean mumbled. He paused as they stepped onto the sidewalk, looking toward Sam. “I know I shouldn't ask but how are we going to rule her out as their Kim?”

Sam slipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out his cellphone. “I told Urd I'd get a picture of her.”

Dean nodded and continued down the sidewalk. “Good idea.”

Their pace slowed as they neared the house, each one taking a long look.

It wasn't too out of the ordinary. No internal alarms sounded on seeing it, no fight or flight response was triggered by it. It was just a house on a quiet street.

The slate blue with white trim two-story sat in the middle of a well-kept yard, the shade of a large oak tree spreading across the grass. It looked to be one of the older homes on the block by its architecture but well cared for so its age didn't really show. Flower beds of marigolds, iris and violets stretched along the walkway and followed the wrap around porch toward the driveway. Two wicker chairs and a small side table sat in front of a large bay window as the folk-art image of a cat greeted them at the door and ordered that they “wipe your paws.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the wooden sign, cocking his head slightly. “Did we step into an episode of Leave It to Beaver?”

Sam glowered at Dean before he knocked on the door, shaking his head.

“Oh come on, Sammy.” Dean straightened his jacket as he slipped into FBI mode. “Not like you weren't thinking it too.”

The front door clicked and slowly opened as a woman came into view, the none to friendly face giving them a once over. “Can I help you?”

Manly in appearance, right down to the slightly receding hairline, Kimberly Martin-Lund was far from attractive. She had rough-hewn features and darkly sunken eyes, her thinning red hair pulled haphazardly into a ponytail. Her complexion was blotchy and the lines around her mouth hinted at the fact that she probably didn't understand the concept of a smile. Her medium build, which seemed to be edging more toward over-weight when paired with her height, made her clothes seem rather frumpy than fashionable.

Dean couldn't help but think she was the kind of ugly that not even copious amounts of alcohol could fix, cringing inwardly as Sam made the introductions.

“I'm Agent May, this is Agent Mercury. FBI.” Sam pulled his badge out of his jacket, showing it to the woman as Dean flashed his own briefly. “We'd like to ask you some questions about an acquaintance of yours, a Mr. Marcus Ballard. May we come in?”

Kim examined both I.D.'s closely before giving them a nod and stepping aside. “Of course. Any way I can help.”

The two entered the house, the door shutting behind them as a pair of blue eyes watched from the tree's branches.

~*~

Urd watched the front door from her perch, ruffling her golden feathers.

As soon as the boys had left the room and the rumble of the Impala had faded from the parking lot, she had taken off after them. She kept a good distance above them so they wouldn't spot her in the mirrors and far enough away so that if they did manage to notice her she'd be little more than a dark shape; just one more bird in the sky. She had followed them carefully through town, turn for turn, finally landing in the highest branches of the oak tree when they stopped.

Up until now it had been easy enough to keep an eye on the two discreetly but this was a new problem.

She glared at the door they had entered as she thought of her next step. Goddess or not, she couldn't see through walls. She doubted showing up at the door as an old woman or a child would have any outcome besides outing herself to the boys. The more she thought, the more annoying all this was.

Her eyes moved from the door to the many windows as the small body hopped along the branch.

'Please have a window open,' she thought. 'Nice warm day is a good time to air out stuffy old houses.'

A quick scan brought no sign of an entrance as she jumped from her perch to land on the yard.

'Oh come on!' Her eyes moved from the window as she let out an exasperated huff, her feather's ruffling. 'Who the hell doesn't air out their house?'

Her head cocked as she walked as best she could toward the foundation, her walk becoming more of an awkward half-strut half-waddle. What windows she saw at the foundation were just as secure as the others. It was beginning to feel like staring up at Fort Knox.

Urd let a frustrated growl that sounded more like an odd coo in her present form, the tiny avian body once more taking up the undignified strut/waddle the little legs could offer.

'Maybe I can break a window,' she mused, waddling toward the rear of the house. 'I could find a rock somewhere.'

The tiny golden body paused as she reached the corner of the house, peering around the foundation toward the few windows present.

'With my luck, they're closed to.' Urd blinked, her eyes moving around the backyard. 'This is not my day.'

The backyard gave little help to her ideas. The flower beds, though nicely kept, were annoyingly free of rocks. The birdbath that stood nearby was both tacky and useless in any function. The expanse of green grass shaded by a lone maple and the ground level patio had nothing but potted plants and wicker furniture that, given her current form, provided nothing more than potential perches. And then there was the lawn gnome.

Urd stared at the damned thing that stood to her left, repressing a shiver. Normally they wouldn't be a problem but she was eye level with it. The beady eyes that followed her, the bulbous nose and freaky grin like nothing was wrong in the world, even that stupid pointy hat was creepy. It was just wrong on so many levels.

Her head pulled back as she stared at the ceramic monstrosity with wide eyes. 'Creepy fucking thing.'

“So how well did you know Mr. Ballard?”

The sound of Dean's voice nearby pulled her attention toward a small window just above her head. A quick beat of her wings brought her to the sill of a kitchen window. There was a screen inside but it was open enough to hear what was said as well as see inside.

Sam and Dean stood beside one of the counters as the woman in question kept her back to the window. “It's a small town. I had seen him around here and there but really didn't know him that well.”

'Turn around,' Urd thought, watching the woman. 'Let me see your face.'

“Did you know him in school?” Sam questioned.

Turn around had become a chant in Urd's head as she looked in on the three, her eyes narrowing.

The Kim woman shook her head, turning ever so slightly. “Not really. Just in passing.”

'Just turn around, woman!' Urd glared as she stood on the sill. 'Turn the hell around!'

“So you wouldn't have any ideas on who would want him dead?” Dean asked.

Urd watched the woman silently as she shook her head and finally turned. “Sorry, no.”

The goddess's eyes went wide as Kim began to walk her way, jumping from the sill and gliding toward the yard's lone tree. Her talons dug into the branch she landed on, turning with a hop to face the house.

'Gotta tell 'em. Now how?' Urd hopped sideways on the branch, keeping an eye on the patio window. 'Can't call. Can't show up at the door.' She watched the house for a moment, huffing as an idea came to her. 'Oh this is gonna suck.'

~*~

As questionings went this one was seeming to go nowhere fast.

Each question the two asked for the same basic response from Kim; she didn't know anything. It wasn't as if they expected to go in, ask some questions and know every answer to what was going on but they weren't getting much at all. The only answer they really got was that Kim had been at the bar the night Ballard had vanished; not that her being there really raised any suspicions.

Following her into the kitchen to continue the questions had gotten more of the same. She didn't know Ballard very well, she didn't know who would want to kill him, she didn't know much of anything. Her answers were making the trip to see her seem more pointless by the second.

The pair stood beside the kitchen table as Kim got herself a glass of water, exchanging an unamused glance as Dean let out a bored little huff, Sam clearing his throat.

To Dean, this was a waste of time. The more they asked, the less she seemed to know. It was amazing she even knew her own name. And, judging from the expression on his brother's face, Sam was feeling the same way.

“In the past couple months have you noticed anyone out of the ordinary in town?” Sam questioned.

Both men waited for the now customary 'no' as the woman turned around to face them.

The reply hadn't even left her lips when a bang that made each of them jump filled the air.

The patio door had been the source, the handful of sun catchers hanging from it still shaking from what had sounded like a strike of some sort. The glass was cracked about three quarters of the way up and would no doubt need to be replaced the way the jagged little breaks fanned out across the door. With as bad as the initial noise had been it was a wonder the glass was still intact.

“What in the world was that?”

Both men stepped forward to get a look as Kim moved in from the side, Dean's jaw setting as he saw the answer.

The little gold body sat on the patio at the base of the door, swaying as the blue eyes blinked dazedly. On unsteady legs it got up and looked at the three inside. A small stagger backward and a quick cry that made the men's blood chill was all the bird did before it flew off.

“You know, I think we've taken up enough of your time.” Sam looked at the window with a small cringe before turning to Kim. “We should go.”

Dean cleared his throat and gave Kim a nod before he moved for the kitchen door. “Thank you for your time.”

They said nothing when Kim saw them to the door, Sam loosening his tie as the front door shut behind them and they headed for the sidewalk.

“I'm gonna kill her,” Dean hissed as he stalked down the street.

“No matter how many times you say that, Dean, it’s not going to happen, “ Sam commented, tucking his hands in his pockets. “You can't kill Fate.”

Dean practically growled as they neared the Impala. “So much for her listening. And where the hell did she go anyway?”

Sam slid into the passenger seat as Dean continued to grumble. “She didn't look too steady when she got up. She couldn't have gotten too far.”

“We get nowhere with that Kim lady and now we have to track down a goddess.” Dean glared out the windshield as he slid behind the wheel. “Where do we even start looking?”

A small moan from the backseat and the appearance of slender fingers on the seat's back was all the greeting Urd could muster as she sat up. “I think I have a concussion.”

Sam turned to look at the woman as Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel. “Are you okay?”

“Aside from the headache and the whole world spinning, I'm perfectly fine.” Urd motioned down the street, her voice a little rough. “I suggest we leave. Now.”

Dean took a deep breath and continued to stare out the windshield. “Why are we suddenly listening to you?”

“Because she can put you on a hit list,” Urd muttered, bringing a hand to her head. “Now if you drive, I won't throw up in your backseat.”

Dean finally turned as Urd sank down to lay on the seat. “What?”

“I'll explain at the motel. Just drive,” she replied.

The Impala rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb, heading down the street and away from the watchful eyes inside the blue house.

~*~

Urd sat quietly at the motel room's table, her head cocked to the side as Sam examined the collar closely. “Is this punishment for me leaving the motel?”

Sam's gaze moved to the goddess as he shook his head. “Well, not when it comes to me.” He straightened as he heard the Impala's trunk close. “I can't really speak for Dean though.”

“Somehow, I don't find that comment too comforting,” Urd mumbled.

Ever since they returned to the motel there had been a palpable tension in the air, especially when it came to Dean. It had been present from the moment she sat up in the car and had eased very little by the time they set foot in the room. It was made even worse by the glares and unintelligible mumbles that came from the man.

“I know my brother is a bit of a jerk sometimes but he does want to help you,” Sam said.

Urd let out a resigned sigh as the motel door opened to Dean on the other side, a green duffle bag clanking behind him.

“Got a couple things from the trunk to try on that collar.” The bag let out a loud thud as Dean set it on the table, Sam cringing at the heavy metallic sound it made. “But first, you have a little explaining to do.”

The blonde gave a small nod as Sam stepped away, popping her neck with a roll of her head. “Fair enough.”

Dean's hand came to rest on the duffle as Sam stood beside the table. “You wanna explain your cutting our interview short by giving yourself a concussion?”

“What did you want me to do, Dean? Morse code on the window with my beak? It wouldn't exactly be normal bird behavior,” Urd answered.

“But why did you do it?” Sam questioned as he studied her. “Why crash into a window like that?”

Urd took an even breath, glancing between the two men. “To get you two out of there. She's the one who put the collars on us.”

“That was her?” The surprise in Dean's voice was unmistakable. “You're sure?”

“If she wasn't the bitch, I wouldn't have given myself a concussion.” Urd paused as she brought a hand to her still throbbing head with a heavy sigh. “And given what she's made my sisters and I do, I figured it would be safer to just get you out of there than let you stay.”

Sam's eyes moved to Dean as the young woman spoke, letting out a small huff. His assumption on who could be behind it all had been just that; an assumption. His comment about hiding in plain sight had been an innocent remark, a simple example to drive home a point to his brother. He hadn't actually thought he'd be right about it.

“So the woman who pretty much knows nothing about anything is responsible for your choke chain.” Dean muttered as he shut his eyes. “That's just awesome.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Well, she obviously knows a lot about something if she brought them here.”

Dean took a deep breath as his eyes moved to the collar around Urd's neck. “And as long as they have those on, she can call 'em whenever she wants.”

“And add to her hit list when someone pisses her off,” Urd added softly.

The older man turned his attention to the duffle bag and pulled at the zipper as Sam and Urd watched, checking over the contents. “So we try removing it.”

Urd cast a confused gaze toward Sam, the metallic rattle of the bag drawing her attention back to Dean. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know what was in the bag, especially given the on again – off again animosity between them. And while Sam was probably right about Dean wanting to help, she still had a little difficulty looking past the young man's thinly veiled threats.

“How do you propose we get the collar off, Dean?” Sam questioned, watching his brother search through the bag. “It was probably part of a spell we have no idea about.”

Dean grinned as he pulled a set of bolt cutters out, giving the pair a glimpse of his idea with the red metal monster. “We try a couple things.”

The young woman's jaw dropped and her gaze locked on the metal nightmare.

“You can't use that around her neck.” Sam's voice was just as shocked as the look on his face. “What are you thinking?”

Dean rested the bolt cutters on his shoulder, an honest expression of confusion on his face. “Why not?”

Sam's answer was an incredulous stare as Urd protectively grabbed at her throat.

“There's enough room to fit this behind the collar and try cutting the ring. Once its cut, we can try bending it enough to slip it off,” Dean explained as he hooked his elbow over the cutter's arm. “The blades won't get near her neck if we pull it out a little more.”

The expression on Urd's face was less than reassured at the words. Her eyes moved from Dean to the cutters and back as she listened to his plan. “Okay, um, does the person wearing the collar get a say in this?”

“Not really after that window thing,” Dean mumbled.

“But it’s my neck!” Urd glared at the man as she got to her feet. “And since it’s my neck, I get a say.”

“You want that stupid thing off or not?” Dean hissed.

Her eyes narrowed and locked with his, a dangerous gleam in them. “Not at the expense of my neck, boy.”

Sam's hand came down on Dean's free shoulder quickly as his brother took a step toward the woman. “That's enough.”

Urd slowly took her seat once more but kept a close eye on the older hunter.

“She has a point. It is her neck and honestly, I'd be leery about something like that around mine if I was her,” Sam stated as he motioned to the cutters.

“Then we'll put a towel or something against her neck to protect it.” Dean's gaze moved between the pair, an annoyed tone to his voice. “If we can get that collar off, Kim can't call her anymore and people stop dying.”

Urd let her eyes travel to Sam before she put her head down on the table.

“A couple scratches is a hell of a lot better than another person being blown up,” Dean added.

The muffled sounds of the parking lot worked into the room as Dean's words hung heavy in the air. As unlikely of a solution as bolt cutters were, getting the collar off was a good idea. If Kim couldn't call all three sisters, no one would die.

“Can you cut it quick?” Urd questioned in a small voice.

Both men turned at the question as Urd sat up and took a deep breath.

“It’s not that thick so it wouldn't take that long,” Dean answered.

Urd gave a small nod and turned calm eyes to the pair. “Then do it. Put one of the hand towels from the bathroom against my neck or whatever and cut the damn thing off.”

Dean set the bolt cutters down, giving the young woman a sidelong glance as he headed for the bathroom.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked as Dean stepped from the room.

Urd nodded and ran her thumb against the oddly chilled metal. “It's worth a shot.”

It hadn't been more than a minute before Dean returned with a towel in his hands, moving for the seated woman. He examined the collar and carefully tucked the thin terry cloth behind the metal ring. A gentle tug at the collar and a quick readjustment to the towel was all it took before he was reaching for the cutters.

“Sam, stand on her left and push the collar toward me,” the older man ordered as he picked up the heavy tool. His hand came down on the top of Urd's head and cocked it far to the left, eying the ring. “And you keep your head right there. Don't move.”

Sam stepped around Urd's side and lifted the collar up, gently pushing its inner arc against her neck. “Okay.”

There was a slight pressure on Urd's right shoulder as Dean brought the cutters up to the collar. She could make out the sound of jaws opening and finally latching onto the offending collar with a soft click. The pressure returned for a moment as Dean shifted his grip on the handles over her shoulder.

“Ready?” Dean questioned, eyes moving between Sam and Urd.

“Do it,” Urd replied as Sam nodded.

His grip tightened on the handles and he pushed the cutter arms together hard. For a brief moment Dean felt the give of metal before the arms locked in place. A determined expression crossed his face and he pressed against the cutter arms harder.

The muscles in his arms began to tremble with strain as Dean pushed the bolt cutter arms together. His look of determination began to waver and his face reddened as he struggled to cut the metal ring, letting out a frustrated groan. A quick repositioning of the handles to get better leverage and Dean tried again.

Between the strained groans and murmured vulgarity, there was another more subtle sound. Urd could make it out but couldn't place the noise even when it grew in volume. It was an insistent popping sound that turned into a protesting creak the more Dean forced the bolt cutters. And strangely, though she couldn't identify the steadily growing noise, it was familiar.

“Dean?” Urd's voice was a little unsure as the creak grew louder. “Maybe this isn't a good idea.”

“Almost got it,” Dean groaned against the cutters.

Sam's expression darkened with concern at the growing noises, his eyes locking on Dean's red face. “Dean.”

“A little more,” Dean growled.

Urd closed her eyes and pushed back the urge to cringe. That almost shrill sound of protest rang in her ears and twisted her face into something bordering on pain. She shuddered involuntarily and felt the collar press into her neck as the staccato popping assaulted her ears and stark realization dawned on her: that sound was straining steel.

Her eyes snapped open and her lips parted to give warning but it was too late. The air split with a metallic crack and a loud thud as Dean lurched forward; nearly face planting on the tacky carpet. The broken head of the bolt cutters lay in pieces on the floor near Urd's feet as the collar continued to hang unblemished around her neck.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean let his eyes move to the broken pieces of steel laying on the carpet and the unscathed collar at her throat. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Urd grabbed the hand towel and pulled it from her neck, sighing heavily as Sam released the metal ring. “It was a good try.”

“Any more bright ideas, Dean?” Sam questioned.

Dean picked up a piece of the broken bolt cutter, turning it over in his hand. “Acetylene torch comes to mind.”

The look Urd gave Dean put Sam's bitch face to shame, slowly rising from her chair with a chillingly even voice. “Come near me with one of those and no one will ever find your body.”

“Dean.” Sam glared at his brother, shaking his head. “You're not going to use an acetylene torch on her neck.”

Dean shrugged and tossed the broken chunk of steel aside. “It's an idea.”

An unamused glare from Urd's direction made Dean fall silent.

“Cutting it off doesn't seem like it’s going to work, “Sam started, crossing his arms over his chest. “If a spell put it on her neck then that spell has to be broken. Nothing you think up is going to work.”

Dean nodded slowly and took a last look at the collar as he considered their next step. “So we find a spell.”

“I was trying to when you shot me,” Urd muttered. She gave a small shrug, resting her hands on her hips. “I couldn't find anything.”

Dean's eyes moved to the broken steel on the floor then to Sam. “Then we work this just like other jobs. Urd can help cut down the research time.”

The young woman's lips curved into a smile at the words. “You're going to let me help? I feel special.”

Dean huffed softly and shrugged the comment off before he turned to Sam. His jaw clenched and he took an even breath, collecting his thoughts. “Why don't you two see what you can find on that Lund woman.”

“What are you gonna do?” Urd questioned as she walked up beside Sam.

Dean snatched the keys from the table, nudging a broken chunk of bolt cutter with his foot. “First, I'm going to go get a new pair of bolt cutters. Then I'm gonna see what I can dig up on the property you three woke up on.”


	17. Chapter 17

Verdandi let her eyes scan the map in her hands, scribbling out one more “x” on the page.

She had been at this since she and her sisters separated after the job, systematically checking every abandoned property she could find for the hunters. One by one she crossed off each property on her makeshift map in her search but came up with nothing. Not that coming up empty handed was going to stop her; she had made this search a personal mission.

Urd's warning was still foremost in Verdandi's mind as she looked over the map but it wasn't loud enough that she couldn't ignore it. After so many millennia it was second nature for Verdandi to selectively ignore anything her sisters said. It didn't mean she wouldn't listen to them, she just chose what she ended up taking from the conversation. In this case, with hunters involved and Urd being chummy with them, all she heard was “blah hunters blah blah” when her sister spoke.

It wasn't that Verdandi didn't trust her sister's judgment; she didn't trust the humans. As a whole they did little to endear themselves to her. The wars they waged against one another had become an amusement overtime, the double talk and close-mindedness that ran rampant among them adding to the black humor of them as a species.

But nothing compared to the hunters in her mind. The hunters she had come across in her travels hadn't been the most upstanding citizens in the world. They lived nomadic lives of grifting and lying, hunting anything remotely evil in their minds and killing it. She'd been around long enough to see more than one creature die at the hands of hunters, sometimes needlessly. Watching all of that play out had won no favor with her.

Verdandi glanced over her map as she sat on the roof of a long forgotten farmhouse, her back against the crumbling brick fireplace. “Now if I were a couple bastard hunters, where else would I be?” She glanced up from the paper in her hands, letting out a heavy sigh. “Besides this shit-hole town at any rate.”

The paper made a crisp sound as she folded it and shoved it into her pocket before rising to her feet. Her hands brushed across the seat of her jeans to dust away anything the decaying roof left behind, her shoes crunching on the tar paper and gravel tiles with each step she took. Her gaze moved across the neglected yard with its rusted play-set and overgrown sandbox toward the empty road beyond.

She hadn't seen or heard a car go past since she arrived to check the house. As hideouts went, this would have been perfect. No traffic, enough cover to hide a car and a house that, though in disrepair, could still hold back the elements made it an excellent place to squat. Unfortunately the hunters hadn't chosen this location.

Verdandi pushed her hair from her eyes, squinting against the mid-afternoon sun.

This place didn't suit her. The country atmosphere and whole small town thing wasn't her. It was mind-numbingly boring to her here, so much so that she had found herself wanting to pull her hair out from boredom more than once. She was more at home in the city than this backwater burg; an unfortunate situation she hoped would be remedied soon.

A quick step off the roof and she landed unscathed in the weed choked yard. She rose from her crouch beside the old porch steps with an easy grace and made her way along the yard in one last sweep.

This had been the seventh stop on her property search with no luck. Each one had shown potential as a hideout but so far nothing panned out. The only up side to this she could see was that she was beginning to narrow down the search list.

The first hints of a breeze kicked up around her, the leaves rustling above her. The calf high grass looked like a rolling sea of green as she walked toward the last faint ruts of the old driveway. As idyllic as the setting was, the location had lost its interest to her not long after she had ruled it out.

Verdandi's change was swift as the woman's form morphed into a black falcon. The beat of powerful wings joined the chorus of bird songs in the air, the dark body cresting over the tree tops and following the road beyond. The cold blue eyes locked on the strip of black that wound its way across the land below and held fast, moving with the currents that lifted her.

From her new vantage point she could see for miles, the humans she came across little more than spots on the landscape. It was one of the easier ways the trio traveled among the humans; seen yet unseen. It had served them well countless times before as an easy escape when needed and an unassuming form to watch the world.

She examined the landscape below her; the trees and fields following the cut of the road. The homes were spaced well apart from one another along the stretch of asphalt, the occasional wooded stand casting dark shadows across the pavement. Sunlight glinted off the windshields of a few cars on the road she passed over but did little to grab her attention.

Her focus was beginning to settle back toward the next location on her list when the low rumble of an engine caught her ear. It was faint at first, growing louder as she turned to head back the way she came. Compared to every other engine she had heard before, each tractor and truck she had heard run through town, this one stood out.

Verdandi's eyes scanned the road, the rumble beginning to sound more like a purr to her. She knew cars and the sounds of engines when they were cared for; she could even give a guess on a car's engine by the sound. This was no suped-up redneck teenager's truck, this was the sound of a muscle car.

The sunlight bounced off the black paint as the '67 Impala finally came into view, Verdandi's eyes growing wide. 'Well hello, hunters.'

Her body practically shook in time with the engine's purr as she dove and flew over the car's roof. A quick look into the cab as she zipped past and a banking turn set her behind the car to follow. A tiny adjustment on her part and she was in the car's blind spot.

She had only seen one head in the car when she had passed it which hadn't really been much of a comfort. One body in the car meant that Urd was probably with the other hunter holed up somewhere. But it also gave her a chance to question the hunter in the car.

She gave the car a once over before shooting above the roof and speeding ahead of the metal monster. A few beats of her wings put her at a safe enough distance ahead on the road. A glimpse behind her at the chrome bumper and she put her plan into action.

~*~

Dean watched the road stretch out ahead of him as he made his way back to the motel.

His trip to search local property records had ended with him two towns over searching county property records the library couldn't access. He had come out with a thin stack of copies, a few names and a couple paper cuts that stung like a bitch. The only real consolation to the trip was the new pair of bolt cutters sitting in the trunk.

He clenched a fist, sighing as he felt more than heard the bones shift and the built up tension release in his right hand. The skin parted at the paper cuts and sent pin pricks of pain across his hand as air met the wounds, the sensation dulling after a moment. It would be a reminder; if briefly, why he usually had Sam do the book work.

His left arm leaned against the open window and the wind tugged at the sleeve of his tee-shirt as he continued along the road. The radio was on a local station, Jimmy Page's solo from Stairway to Heaven in the speakers joining the steady hum of the road. He sat back and felt himself relax for the first time since they came to town.

Dean knew it was fleeting, that as soon as he set foot in the motel room, he'd be back butting heads with Urd, but he didn't care. Right now it was just him and his baby alone on a road that made him smile with each turn. The motel and annoying blonde there had no sway here.

The empty road curved and the shadows of trees passed over the Impala, Dean glancing out his open window as the scenery passed. He eased back on the gas and let his baby cruise along the back road almost leisurely. He wasn't in any hurry to get back to the motel and go over what was or wasn't found with the pair; a little extra time to himself wasn't going to be the end of the world.

His eyes traveled back to the road and the uncommon sight of a black hawk flying over the asphalt. At first he found himself second guessing the bird that followed the concrete ahead, his mind trying to stick raven to the feathered body. The more he stared though, the more raven didn't fit and the more familiar the form became.

The bird's wings beat twice and propelled the small body forward as Dean watched. The tiny head turned briefly before the dark form went vertical and spun to face the car. But instead of the bird returning to view, it was a very human body that dropped on to the road.

Dean slammed on the breaks and sent the car into a skid, his grip tightening on the wheel. “Son of a bitch.”

The raven-haired woman stood unphased by the sound of squealing tires, hands resting on her hips as she watched the car come closer. She stood her ground with a cold glare, the bumper mere inches from her legs when the car finally stopped. A quick glance down at the closeness of metal to flesh got an unamused look leveled across the hood.

Dean stared at the woman in front of him silently. He could feel the tension that had left him returning as his expression darkened at the all too familiar face. The relaxing cruise was over and gone no matter how he looked at it.

He remembered this one from the Donner Party photo Sam had found by her hair color; she had been the one who looked ready to fight anyone who dared come close. Seeing her now wasn't much different. Curve hugging jeans and a white tee-shirt replaced 1840's fashion but it was the same woman. The same cold glare he remembered from the photo was now locked on him. He couldn't exactly remember the names Sam had read off when they found Urd or if she had said who was who in the pictures but he got the feeling it didn't matter; he was about to find out her name firsthand.

The woman watched him closely for a moment as she stood in the road. The way she looked at him made Dean feel a little uneasy; studying him like a bug she was about to rip the wings from. It was enough to make him wish Urd was here.

The cold gaze shifted from Dean to the Impala after a moment, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her fingers moved to the car's emblem and traced out the word Chevrolet before lovingly dancing across the chrome of the grill to circle around the headlight casing. Appreciatively her eyes traced out the lines of the car as her hands moved to rest on the hood reverently. The engine's low rumble made the icy expression fade from the woman's face and her eyes close, her head bowing slightly at the sound.

Dean's brow knit as he sat there. Watching the way this woman touched and looked over the Impala, his baby, made him feel dirty. She was fondling his car right in front of him. His car. This wasn't right, not by a long shot.

The woman's eyes opened and examined the hood, her hand skimming gently along the paint. A sultry grin lit her face and her head tilted slightly as the engine revved loud before falling completely silent. For a moment those blue eyes locked with Dean's shocked face and her grin turned wicked as she walked around the hood to the passenger door.

Whatever had just happened, Dean wasn't liking it. First miss whatever her name was practically molests his car and now it dies. The ignition was still turned over, the gear was still in drive and his foot was planted on the brake; he hadn't touched anything since she showed up. She was behind this; he knew it.

The young woman let her fingertips run along the edge of the hood, tracing the car's antenna slowly while making her way to the passenger door. She palmed the curves of the passenger search light as if with a lover's caress before moving to the side mirror's sun-warmed metal. Her eyes were no longer skimming over every inch of the car but instead locked on the man behind the wheel. She could see the discomfort on his face as she examined the vehicle and she was thoroughly enjoying it.

Dean's brow knit as he tried in vain to start the car. No matter how many times he turned the key or pumped the gas, all his ears picked up was the tiny mocking click of the starter. “Son of a bitch.”

Her hand skimmed along the roof, letting her eyes move to the rear panels as she heard the driver door open.

“Who the hell are you?” There was no mistaking the anger in Dean's voice or expression as he spoke, glaring over the car at her. “And what did you do to my car?”

“You humans are so damn hung up on names it’s pathetic,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. Her attention shifted to the enraged young man almost as an afterthought. “My name is Verdandi but some of you humans call me Present.”

Dean's jaw set as he pointed to the hood. “What did you do to my baby?”

Verdandi waved off the question and returned to admiring the car. “Oh relax. Your car is fine.”

“What the hell did you do to my car?” The question rose in volume as Dean began to hyperventilate, ending in a near shriek.

“Wow. You're a touchy thing, aren't you?” She sounded so matter of fact with the comment, leaning against the passenger door. “Are you over compensating for something?”

His jaw set harder at the question and he let out an annoyed huff. “What did you do to my car?”

“You kinda have a one track mind, anyone ever tell you that?” Her forehead wrinkled slightly as she looked him over. “And you look a little sweaty.”

Dean wanted nothing more than to reach out and punch her but thought better of it. This one was just as annoying as Urd with the comments but at least Urd didn't mess with his car; Verdandi hadn't won any brownie points with that little trick. He doubted slapping her silly would accomplish anything besides pissing her off and possibly making her blow up the car. Given that option he abandoned that idea fast.

He practically seethed reaching back into the car to try the ignition once more. It was a better option than pulling his gun on this one. He had learned with Urd that cold steal and a hot bullet didn't sit well with the women.

“It won't start unless I say so,” Verdandi stated calmly.

He shot her a dangerous look and turned the key, hearing the starter click once more.

“I told you.” She gave him an innocent smile, folding her hands behind her back. “You're just wasting your time, boy.”

“It's Dean,” he growled, popping the hood. “Now what did you do to my car?”

Verdandi rolled his name around her head for a second, finally giving him a nod. “I guess that's better than calling you jackass.”

He mumbled under his breath and opened the hood to take a look.

The engine looked fine. Nothing was missing from it; no wires were mysteriously gone, no vanishing spark plugs or anything. The engine was perfect. Only problem was it wouldn't start.

A gasp at his side made him stiffen, Verdandi sounding almost in awe. “A 327 small block with a Holley 4-barrel carb. Pretty.”

He slammed the hood down; silently hoping her fingers would get caught, and spun on the woman. “What do you want?”

“I want a word or two with you.” She took a step back as he turned, crossing her arms over her chest. “It may involve the phrase “you are a dick” at some point but that's beside the fact.”

Dean looked offended at her comment, cocking his head slightly. “Wait, what?”

She waved him off, leveling an accusing finger at him. “I know what you are!”

Dean blinked back his confusion as she bellowed at him, shaking his head. “Why are you yelling at me? I should be yelling at you for screwing up my car.”

“You're a hunter. And you grabbed my sister,” Verdandi hissed. “Where is she?”

He was silent for a moment, the confusion on his face giving way to indignation. “You messed up my car so you could yell at me about Urd?”

“Where the hell is my sister?” Her expression was as cold as the tone of her voice. “I know you're working with someone. The kid in town said he saw three people in your car the other day.”

“Kid?” He wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about but the urge to slap her was bubbling just below the surface again. “What kid?”

“The one at the convenience store. He saw three heads from the back window; two guys and a girl. That's your fat head, your buddy's and my sister.” Verdandi's hands moved to her hips, her jaw setting visibly. “So if you're here alone that means she's with him. Now where is she?”

Dean's brow arched, shaking his head. He wasn't about to say anything about the fat head comment even though he wanted to. Hell, he wanted to say a few choice things to her at this point. Thankfully though, self-preservation won out.

“Look, Verdandi was it, your sister is fine. She's driving me nuts but she's fine,” he said as evenly as he could.

Her expression darkened and sent a chill down Dean's spine. “My ass. I know one of you shot her. And don't think for a minute I buy that she went with you willingly.”

Dean threw his arms up in frustration and turned away before he did something he'd regret.

“And then she turns around and says you’re helping us. Your kind doesn't help us.” Verdandi kept her eyes on him, remaining at the hood. “All the times we've come across hunters, we've had targets on our backs.”

“Sam and I are trying to help you three,” Dean blurted out. He turned to face Verdandi as the end of his patience was reached. “Urd asked us to. We know about the collars, we know about Kim and we are trying to get you all out of here.”

Verdandi looked a little skeptical at his words. Experience had taught her that humans had a knack for lying, especially hunters. Trusting them was taking a huge risk in her eyes.

“We've been to the farm where you woke up. Urd even showed us where you three buried Ballard.” Dean watched Verdandi carefully as he spoke. “We are helping you, not hunting you.”

She pushed her hair back behind her ear, her voice low. “The last time I heard that from a hunter, he tried to use one of my sisters for bait.”

“Well, that isn't us,” he replied.

Verdandi was still cautious, eyes locked mistrustfully on the young man.

Dean shook his head, resting his hands on the hood of the car. “She isn't being held against her will. In fact, when I left she was helping my brother look some stuff up.”

“Why would you help us?” Verdandi took an even breath, asking the question more to herself than to him. “What could you possibly have to gain?”

He watched the young woman for a moment, giving her a small shrug. “It's just the right thing to do.”

Verdandi stood motionless beside the car, confusion flashing across her features. She had heard more than one human feed her some bullshit line but this was different. His answer sounded genuine.

“We get you three out of here, the town goes back to normal and you can go back to whatever it is you do when you don't kill people,” he added.

Verdandi frowned and brought a hand up, combing her fingers back through her hair. “I still don't trust you.”

Dean motioned toward the Impala as he drummed his fingers against the metal. “Feeling is mutual. Now how about fixing my car.”

The young woman turned her attention to the vehicle in question.

The black paint glinted in the sunlight and the reflections of the leaves above danced across the windshield bringing a smile to her face. She had almost forgotten about the classic car beside her, the same one that sent Dean into near convulsions when she stopped it. In the back of her mind she caught herself wondering what it would take to get it away from him.

Dean caught the way Verdandi was looking at the car, cocking an eyebrow. “You still with me?”

“Can I drive?”

That wasn't exactly what Dean had wanted to hear. He wanted to hear the rumble of the engine kick up again. Instead he got a question there was no way he'd answer yes to.

“What?” he questioned, shock in his voice.

She made her way back to the passenger door, looking inside. “Can I drive?”

His annoyance was beginning to resurface as she opened the car door. “No.”

Verdandi slid into the passenger seat with a sigh, running a hand over the dashboard.

“Get out of my car,” Dean demanded.

“I wanna drive.” Her eyes skimmed across the console, sitting back against the seat. “Let me drive.”

Dean moved to the driver's door and looked in, frustration in his voice. “Why would I let you drive my car?”

Verdandi looked beyond content as she slid down against the upholstery, letting her hand slip from the dashboard. She let out a moan that sounded more like a purr than anything and stretched out against the leather seat. “Because if you don't, your car won't start up again.”

Dean huffed as she lounged in the car, shaking his head. “You are not driving my car.”

“Then you aren't leaving this spot,” she countered.

His eyes narrowed at the comment as she leveled a blissful smile at him. Urd may have been annoying in her own right but Verdandi was quickly surpassing her. He was actually to the point of thinking that maybe the urge to shoot them was more of a family trait than just individual.

Verdandi let her eyes move around the car, resting her head against the seat. “So let me drive.”

“Over your dead body,” Dean replied. He gave her a smile when she looked his way that was just as cocky as her attitude. “Now fix my car.”

It was clear she had never been told no in her life, at least by a human, with how quickly she sat up and glared at him. Or at least she hadn't been told no the way Dean said it. The quick whip of her head had been proof.

“You saw what happened at that gas station, right?” Her voice was an almost sultry purr that would have been a turn on to him any other time. “The damage left behind?”

Dean's guard went up the moment he saw the glare begin to mellow. “Yeah.”

That wicked grin he had seen when the car died returned as she leaned across the seat toward him. “That was me. Urd may pick who dies and Skuld may pick when but I pick how you die. So think long and hard before saying no.”

The thinly veiled threat did little to sway his decision on her driving. “Not on your life.”

“You're a stubborn bastard,” Verdandi mumbled with a scowl.

“And you're a bitch.” Dean motioned to the passenger door, keeping his eyes on her. “Now get out of my car and fix it.”

Verdandi huffed and climbed out of the car under Dean's watchful eye. She pushed the door shut and leveled an indignant glare at him as she walked along the hood. She almost looked like a disgruntled child the way she stalked to the front of the car.

He waited patiently beside the driver's door and rested an arm against the roof.

“I will get this car one day.” She turned toward him, her tone so ominously and self-assured it made him wonder. “You humans don't live forever.”

Dean motioned toward the hood once more as she glared at him.

Verdandi set her hand against the hood, the engine coming to life with a roar. She straightened and let her fingertips slip off the cool metal slowly before turning away. “There's your precious car. Now get back to work.”

Dean rolled his eyes as she walked away, letting out a heavy sigh. He felt a little better now that the car was running once again; even more so when Verdandi finally changed form and took off. But even with her gone he still wasn't completely at ease getting behind the wheel, especially with her last few comments buzzing around his head.

~*~

Urd sat going over the victim names on the legal pad, twirling her pen in her fingers absently while Sam worked on the laptop.

Between the two of them the research on Kim had gone rather well. They still couldn't say what the woman's motive was for all the killings but they at least had a little background on her. Unfortunately it was hard to tell what was useful and what wasn't.

Sam glanced up from the computer for a moment, rubbing at his eyes as she scribbled a name to the paper.

The search on Kimberly Martin-Lund had pretty well ended after 10 pages of notes and a little genealogy on the woman in question. None of it had cleared up anything though, no flashing neon sign magically appearing to say “motive” to either of them. If anything it seemed more like a dead end; a list of names, most of them long dead, and a fleeting look at an immigrant family.

Maybe it had been the prospect of a dead end that turned Urd's attention to the victims. One by one the names filled the lines of the page in a stark role call, twenty-five in all that had no connection to one another save death. Even to a Fate it made no sense.

Urd scanned the names and sat back, running her hand through her hair. “I will never fully understand you humans.”

Sam looked up from the laptop as she studied the list. “What do you mean?”

“I know random. I'm a Fate, it’s my job. But I will never understand your random thought processes.” She motioned to the list in front of her, running a finger along the names. “Different ages and occupations, the only common factor is that Lund bitch.”

Sam nodded and looked at the yellow piece of paper. “If it makes you feel any better, Dean and I can't figure out humans either.”

“Good to know it isn't just me,” Urd commented with a sigh.

“We have dealt with some really...interesting people on a couple jobs and half the time we were left scratching our heads on what they were thinking.” He rested his elbows on the table with a shrug. “Most of the time it’s just easier chalking everything up to plain insanity.”

Urd's brow furrowed as she looked once more at the list. “Your kind suffers that a lot.”

Sam shook his head as she went over the names.

“So, by the looks of things, we have a big fat stack of nothing.” Urd dropped her pen and folded her hands over the legal pad. “Yeah, I like the whole research idea, Sam.”

He motioned for the paper in front of her, shaking his head slightly. “No one said it’s a glamorous job.”

Urd sat back as Sam examined the names, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't sure if he could make sense of the list or find a connection between the names besides the obvious. It wouldn't hurt if he gave the list a once over but she really wasn't expecting much.

The young man's expression clouded as he read the names. Urd was right about the victim's being random. Living in town and ending up on Kim's bad side seemed to be their only connections.

“Kind of sad seeing them all written down like that.” Urd let her finger push her pen across the table, watching it roll toward Sam. “All those people got the shaft just cause a psycho got mad.”

Sam's gaze drifted to the curtain as he heard the Impala's engine outside. “Sometimes that's all it takes.”

“That's not very comforting,” Urd murmured. She reached across the table for the stack of notes, the sound of the Impala outside barely getting her attention. “We've researched her; do you think we should look into her hit list victims?”

“Maybe. They had to do something to get on her bad side,” Sam answered evenly.

Urd flipped through the pages of notes as a car door slammed outside. “Well, the bitch is at the top of my shit list for obvious reasons.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Dean opened the door, both pairs of eyes landing on him. He looked aggravated and somewhat uneasy, his eyes moving to Urd at the table. A few steps toward her as the door was slammed behind him brought an accusatory finger to her line of sight. “Your sister is a bitch!”

“Well hello to you too,” Urd replied calmly, brow knitting.

Sam got to his feet while Dean glared at the young woman, carefully lowering the older man's arm. “What happened?”

“And which sister?” Urd looked up at the man as if he was about to have a stroke right in front of her. “I've got two of them.”

“Black hair,” Dean spat.

Urd's expression fell flat at his answer. “Verdandi.”

“She messed with my car,” the older man fumed.

She sighed heavily and brought a hand to her forehead as the mildest hint of annoyance found its way into her voice. “Sounds like her.”

Dean tossed his thin stack of papers on the table and made his way to the fridge and the few beers he knew were inside. The whole drive back he had been going over his encounter with Verdandi. He hadn't thought anyone could make Urd look completely innocent but that woman had. Then there was the car thing. After all that he definitely needed a drink, too bad it wasn't stronger.

“You met one of the others?” Sam watched Dean pull a bottle from the small fridge and toss the cap in the sink. “Where was she?”

Dean took a long drag off his beer before he looked at Sam. “Didn't have much of a choice. She dropped down in front of the car on some back-road and killed it.”

Urd hung her head at the comment. “Yeah, that sounds like something she'd do.”

Dean leveled a glare at the woman, his jaw clenching. “She's a bitch.”

“I hear that a lot,” Urd muttered almost dismissively.

His glare didn't ease as he stood with his back against the counter.

The tension in the air was palpable as Sam looked between the two, the bulk of it coming from Dean. “What happened, Dean?”

Another long drag off the bottle before he spoke seemed to help lessen his glare as he looked at Sam. “Driving back here, she drops down in front of the car and stands there. I should have hit her when I had the chance.”

Urd shook her head at the comment, putting her forehead against the table. “Oh god.”

“Then she puts her hands on the hood, kills the engine then starts feeling up the car,” Dean added.

Sam caught the odd look Urd shot his brother, giving her a quick shake of his head. He knew she was probably wondering what Dean's deal with the car was but now wasn't really the time. His brother’s quirks would have to be explained later.

Dean took another drink, pointing toward Urd. “She's looking for you.”

Urd sat up, pushing her hair from her face. “Not really surprised by that part either.”

“And she don't trust us,” he informed Sam dryly. “Asked me why we'd help them and what we had to gain from it.”

Sam's brow knit as he listened. He had figured Urd's sisters would be leery of them, who wouldn't be given the circumstances. But Verdandi's questions pointed to more than a usual mistrust. He was beginning to wonder about the third sister after hearing all this.

“I thought Blondie there was bad.” Dean finished his beer, motioning toward Urd as he shook his head. “Oh no. Verdandi makes her seem like a damn saint.”

Urd grinned as Dean dropped his bottle in the sink. “Blondie? Aww. I get a pet name.”

The comment got an eye-roll from Dean as Sam attempted to get back on task. “Did you find anything on the land where they woke up?”

Sam's question was a welcome change from Dean's current mindset. If he thought too long on his back-road meeting, he'd probably end up doing something he'd regret. It was better to be back on the job than mouthing off about an annoying goddess' more annoying sister.

“The property is about 100 acres and listed in county records to a Mardyn family.” Dean moved from the counter and reached for the papers he had thrown down on the table. “The land was bought around the 1920's and it hasn't changed hands since.”

Urd sat forward at the name, resting her elbows on the table. “Mardyn? Who's the name on the deed?”

Dean leafed through his pages of research, fanning them out as he scanned each one. He may have gone a little overboard with the copies he made but he wasn't sure what would end up being useful, getting one of every document he could dig up. It took a moment to find the copy of the property deed in the stack before he could locate the answer in the old script.

“Eyvind Mardyn.” Dean looked up from the photocopy, handing it to Sam. “Interesting sounding name.”

Urd reached for the notepad at her elbow and flipped through the pages. “I've heard that name before.”

Sam looked over the deed, glancing toward Dean. “That's a lot of land.”

“According to the records, the dude paid cash. It couldn't have been cheap for him,” Dean explained.

“Found it!” Urd held up the small piece of paper, giving the pair a smile. “I knew I heard that name before.”

The two turned their attention to the scrap of paper she held, reading over the names.

It hadn't been much at first; a half-heartedly scribbled list of family names associated with Kim that Sam and Urd had come up with. It had been an attempt to find Kim's relatives to question on her but with all but two names on it dead, the list became pointless. Now though the scrap that was buried in the stack of notes didn't seem so useless. And staring out from the top of it was Eyvind Mardyn's name.

“He's on the list of Kim's family?” Sam questioned.

“He's her grandfather,” Urd said flatly.

Sam let out a small huff as he shook his head, Dean reaching for the list. “She knows about the farm because it’s her family's land.”

“This lady just keeps sounding better and better the more we find out.” Dean took a seat at the table as he dropped the list. “What did you two find?”

“Nothing much. She works at a local insurance company. The house she lives in is her mother's, she got it when the mother moved to a senior living community,” Sam answered.

“So nothing that screams psycho killer.” Dean leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. “That's helpful.”

Urd's eyes moved back to the list of victims in front of her. “And the list of the people she's had us kill makes no sense. It looks totally random.”

“We're thinking of looking into the victims for any connections that way,” Sam added.

“How many names?” Dean questioned cautiously.

“As it stands now, twenty-five.” Urd rested her arms on the table with a small shrug. “Twenty-four if you don't count the guy at the gas station who was just a “wrong place, wrong time” kinda thing.”

Dean watched the young woman for a second, blinking back the unease that her too calm comment had touched on.

“That's still a lot of research that may not pan out.” Sam made a motion to the collar around Urd's neck as he stood beside the table. “Plus there is the spell to figure out, find a way to get that collar off, and the possibility Kim could call you for another job.”

Urd sighed at the younger man's comment, her shoulders sagging. “The best part of this whole thing.”

Dean pushed himself up from the table and let his eyes travel over the research cluttered top. The piles of paper had given them little if anything in the way of clues. And with twenty-five more names to look at they weren't going to get any smaller any time soon. “I'm really hating this job, Sammy.”


	18. Chapter 18

The afternoon sun beat down on the small park at the center of town, the shade trees offering Skuld a respite from the heat as she watched the young man on the bench.

She had been wondering about the hunters since the Yost job but hearing about Verdandi's own run-in with one of them had really made her curious. She wanted to see for herself what these two were like and get her own personal impressions. If they were helping them then, as hunters go, the pair couldn't be all bad.

Her previous night had been spent trying to figure out a way to approach said hunters. Unlike Verdandi and her button pushing ways, she wasn't one to toy with humans. A simple, and very cautious, approach was her idea. In theory a cautious approach meant she wouldn't wind up shot the way Urd had been.

The first part of her idea had involved finding the hunters after she got away from Verdandi for the day. Since Verdandi really wasn't one to care what she did and a '67 Chevy Impala stood out against the town's usual traffic, that part had been surprisingly easy. The second part though, actually following the young man with the longish hair, was a little more difficult. Street to street was one thing but when he went into the library her following him had hit a snag. Following him inside the actual building wasn't the best idea since her last visit to it had involved a possible felony.

She had waited outside the building for him, taking the time to think out just what she'd say when she approached him. She doubted that walking up to him out of the blue and just striking up a conversation would be a proper introduction. Somehow she couldn't see “Hi, I'm Skuld. You shot my sister.” as much of an ice breaker.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the young man finally left the library for the park with Skuld close behind. As he occupied a shaded bench, she watched him quietly from a spot across the grass. He looked harmless enough as he sat reading over the papers in his notebook. Common sense told her otherwise though as she more or less worked up the courage to approach him.

Skuld pushed herself up from her seat and dusted off the back of her skirt, glancing around the park. She just looked like one of the other kids out at this time, an innocuous little girl with a comic book in her arms. It was a disarming form and one she hoped wouldn't draw gunfire as she walked across the grass.

~*~

The stack of articles and clippings in Sam's lap looked more like a cross section of town than anything. The macabre roll call Urd had supplied had taken up the better part of his morning as he researched each individual name. Aside from a blurb or two here and there he hadn't found too much that stood out. It all just looked like a jumbled mess.

From the first name to the last, nothing stood out besides Kim. There was no indication they really knew each other except maybe in passing or day to day dealings. Even studying each person showed nothing in common between any of them.

Sam took a deep breath as he moved to rub his temple, stuffing the papers in his notebook before setting it down on the bench.

“Hi.”

His brow knit at the tiny sounding voice that appeared behind him, turning slightly. He expected to see one of the kids from the playground standing behind him in search of a lost ball or something instead of a pair of big blue eyes peeking over the bench back. It was only when he spotted the white hair on the small head that he realized this was no ordinary child.

The blue eyes examined him as the tiny body used the bench for cover. “You don't look like a hunter.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He watched the girl take a couple tentative steps toward the end of the bench before stopping. “You're Future?”

“Skuld,” she corrected.

“Skuld.” Sam settled back against the bench as she finally came into view. “I'm Sam.”

Skuld gave him a nod, holding her comic book to her chest. “Are you the one with the car fetish?”

Sam shook his head and bit back the laugh that threatened to come out at her question. “No, that's Dean.”

The girl hopped up on the bench, her toes barely touching the ground. “Verdandi told me about him. Well...she told me about the car at any rate.”

Sam examined the girl beside him, watching the way she kicked her feet as she sat there.

He has seen Urd in this form before but not in the school uniform. Seeing it up close, how they had appeared in photos from the local paper, was a little unnerving. He knew by now there wasn't anything to worry about with the trio but the schoolgirl uniform was a bit creepy. Subconsciously he couldn't help but look at her and think about “The Shining” twins.

“Urd said you were helping us. Verdandi said the same thing after she met the other guy.” Skuld looked up from her feet and pushed the strands of white hair from her eyes. “I trust my sisters but I wanted to get a personal opinion of you.”

Sam was a little hesitant as he watched her gaze shift to him. “And?”

“So far, it’s good. You're approachable, kinda cute and haven't shot me,” Skuld informed. She sat back against the bench, letting her feet fall back into their random kicking. “The whole not shooting me is a big plus.”

Sam shook his head with a chuckle as his eyes scanned the park. “In all fairness, that happened before we knew what you were.”

“Good to know,” Skuld muttered, letting her fingers play with the corners of her comic.

The sound of the paper fanning beneath her fingers drew his attention back to the bench and made her brow knit. “What's that?”

Skuld straightened and looked down at the slender booklet in her lap with a shrug. “My comic book. They help get my mind off things.”

Sam looked at the brightly drawn pictures with a nod.

The three may have looked identical but the more he found out about them, the more the similarities ended. Urd seemed to be the more level-headed leader of the trio, Verdandi sounded like the roughest of the three by Dean's description and Skuld was looking like the shy one. It was quite a departure from the mythology surrounding them.

Watching Skuld beside him now it was easy to see how different from Urd she was. She was more guarded and quiet, focusing more on her shoes or the comic in her lap than Sam. And so far, unlike Urd, Skuld seemed to need a little more coaxing to talk.

“You three are really hard to figure out,” Sam said calmly. He watched the young girl's face, catching her eyes shift toward him. “We haven't dealt with your kind before.”

Skuld's face lit up as she smiled and a tiny laugh escaped her. “So we're breaking you hunters in? My sisters and I aren't exactly “training wheel” gods, Sam. You just caught us at a bad time.”

His eyes moved automatically to the iron ring at her throat with her comment. “We're trying to find a way to remove those.”

“I'm all for jewelry but this stupid thing is annoying.” Skuld gave the ring a tug before letting it drop with a huff. “I hate it.”

Sam watched a woman walk past as Skuld rubbed at her nose for a second. “We're looking into everything with them. Cutting the ring off isn't an option though.”

“You tried that?” Skuld questioned innocently.

“Broke a pair of bolt cutters on Urd's necklace,” Sam answered evenly.

Skuld grimaced and turned to face the young man. “So what now?”

Sam blinked at the sudden change from shy to curious in the girl. “We keep looking.”

“Oh.” She nodded slowly and glanced at the notebook beside him. A small hand reached out slowly and poked at the spiral wire cautiously. “That what the notebook is for?”

Sam gave a small half nod as Skuld hooked a finger through one of the wire loops. “Kind of.”

The way she scooted the notebook across the seat toward herself was almost comical. The way she pursed her lips and inched the book across the wood was more guilty child than an eternal goddess of fate. The careful flip of the pages and occasional glances toward Sam just made her seem less ageless creature and more kid about to be grounded.

Skuld made her way page by page through Sam's notes on herself and her sister, giving an approving nod here or a disapproving brow knit there. Like Urd, Sam had a feeling Skuld was fact checking herself. The way she read the scribbles coupled with the facial expressions made that option more than likely.

“You're studying us?” Her gaze moved from the pages to Sam then back as the first photographs came into view. “Are we really that fascinating?”

Sam nodded slowly as she looked over the photos in the notebook. “Like I said, we never met your kind before.”

“God wise, I'm sure we won't be the last,” she commented.

Skuld took her time looking through the pictures Sam had collected, a tiny smile on her face. She remembered every moment Sam had come across down to the last detail. Seeing them in a makeshift photo album was a walk down memory lane for her.

She paused at the picture of Marie Antoinette's execution, shaking her head with a sigh. “That was the soap opera of its time. Almost made one feel sorry for her the way her mother acted toward her.”

His eyes moved to the pictures as Skuld continued to leaf through them. “You remember the execution?”

“Hard to forget. The crowd, the sound of the guillotine blade coming down and the catch basket shaking. It's not something you easily forget.” Skuld looked over a couple photos from The Blitz before setting them aside. “When you’re that close to the stage and under the sun mid-day, the smell of the blood gets over-powering.”

Sam pushed back the chill that came over him with those words. Hearing about the blood from a small child was surreal. He had to remind himself that this was no ordinary little girl beside him.

The photos began to pile up as Skuld looked through each one before stopping, her expression growing somber. Her lips pursed and her eyes clouded as she stared at the picture in her hands, a small sigh escaping her. A hint of her former demeanor returned with a clearing of her throat but it was still obvious the photo in her hands had phased her.

“What's wrong?” The concern in Sam's voice was genuine as he watched her.

“We've seen a lot...” Skuld paused, letting a finger tap at the photo. “But there are some things that stay with you more than all the others.”

Sam's eyes moved to the print out in Skuld's hands, recognizing the photograph of the Donner Party survivors. “That's not your usual picture.”

A small chuckle escaped Skuld as she handed the photographs and notebook back to Sam. “It wasn't a good outcome. It wasn't even supposed to be a job.”

He looked at the paper in his hands, focusing on the women in the background.

“Sutter's Fort in California, March of 1847. We had just gotten out of the mountains with the rest of the humans. We were survivors, the lucky few who walked from the mountains alive,” she commented. “Mimicked their appearances and kept our disguises.”

“Urd looks devastated,” Sam murmured.

The girl gave a small nod as her tone turned thoughtful. “She lost someone on the journey and it broke her.”

Sam looked up from the papers and tucked them back into the notebook. “What was their name?”

For a moment she didn't answer, letting her gaze move across the park. She remembered the trip vividly and could easily recount it in detail but looking back on the journey had a tendency to open old wounds. But Sam seemed deserving of an answer.

“His name was Charles; Charles Stanton.” Skuld smiled as she looked at the grass. “He was a human and he loved her. He loved her since the first moment he saw her.”

“Did he know?” Sam watched the blue eyes scan the park before landing on his face. “Did he know what you were?”

Skuld nodded slowly as she folded her hands in her lap. “He knew. He saw us at an accident and, overtime, put two and two together. But he didn't care what we really were. He just wanted her.”

Sam sat forward on the bench, resting his elbows on his knees. “How did you end up in the Donner Party?”

“At the time, California was being hailed as the ultimate land of opportunity. Land for the taking, riches for anyone to claim. Charles wanted a good life with her there so he signed up with a group heading west.” Skuld ran her fingers across the bench seat, pausing as she thought back. “Urd practically begged him not to go west. She was hunting every corner of the globe for a way to keep him with her, to make him immortal like us.”

His brow knit at Skuld's remark. “Is that possible?”

“You'd be surprised what can be done, Sam.” She pushed her hair back behind her ear, feeling a breeze hit her face. “He was stubborn though and intent on going. So he did and we went with him.”

Sam listened quietly as the young girl's voice grew soft and her expression serious.

“In September 1846, Charles and a man named McCutchen were sent ahead to get food for the humans who were running low.” Skuld paused, clearing her throat. “He came back in October with food and a couple guides. We were with those humans a month in disguise.”

“Why didn't you go with him?” Sam questioned.

Skuld gave a shrug. “We had eyes on us twenty-four hours a day. Suddenly vanishing triplets don't go over well with half-starved settlers. It was safer for us to stay with the wagon then risk exposure to already unstable humans.”

Sam nodded in understanding. He could only imagine what would have gone through the minds of the emigrants in the wagon train if they caught the sister's disappearing act. Given the time-frame, he didn't think it would go over very well.

“We stayed close to Charles once he returned. Snow was beginning to make travel impossible and we were worrying about him. Humans need to eat and he was barely eating at all.” The girl let out a huff and shook her head as she thought back. “I still remember the stubborn little arguments they used to have.”

He caught the way her expression changed from serious to thoughtful as she spoke. “Over what?”

Skuld chuckled softly and smiled. “He wanted her to eat and she kept trying to explain that we don't always need to.”

“Sounds like they were equally stubborn,” Sam said gently.

“They were.” Skuld nodded solemnly, her eyes focusing on a spot in the grass. “December came, one of the men died of malnutrition, and the snowshoe party was chosen. Charles was among them and Urd wouldn't leave his side again so the Macbeth sisters joined the snowshoe party.”

“Macbeth?” Sam questioned, his brow knitting in confusion.

For a split second he caught a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she looked toward the playground. “You think Shakespeare came up with the three witches on his own?”

He wasn't about to comment on the question she had posed. After seeing their faces in all those photos and paintings, he knew the possibility that they ran into Shakespeare wasn't all that far-fetched. He found himself wondering who else they crossed paths with through the centuries.

“Macbeth wasn't listed in any records about the snowshoe party,” he finally said.

“The rescuers got two names at the time: Macbeth and Stanton. With records not being the best at the time and the chaos of the survivors recounts, it’s not surprising there are no records to find,” came her gentle reply.

There was a long pause, Skuld staring out across the park. Bird songs and breeze rustled leaves punctuated the silence along with the faint laughter of children behind them. The gravity of their conversation eased for a moment while the girl collected her thoughts.

“Charles was struggling, even with our sister helping him. He was weak, could barely keep up with the group. And he was so cold.” Skuld's voice was barely a whisper as she spoke. “When the party set out from Summit Valley, Charles was too weak to move. The humans left him behind sitting beside the trail under a tree.”

“What about you?”

Skuld took a shaky breath as she thought back. “He tried to get Urd to leave with the others. Verdandi and I offered what we could in a quick passing but he wasn't hearing it. Told us to go on with the party and watch over Urd. He said he'd be right behind us after he rested. We tried to get Urd to come but managed to move her only so far from him before she fought back.”

He could see unshed tears in her eyes, watching the small fingers move to wipe them away. “Verdandi may be the rough one but Urd wasn't going to leave him even under threat. We...Verdandi and I, we weren't going to force her.”

Sam listened quietly, watching the young girl push back more tears that threatened to fall.

“We started after the humans and rejoined them. Verdandi had set her sights on retribution and I wasn't about to argue with that. Our sister's world was falling apart because of the bad choices of men, something needed to be done. We hadn't decided on anything but that changed the moment Charles died.”

“How did you know he died?” Sam asked carefully. “You had to be some distance away with the others when it happened.”

“We heard it. Urd was devastated and that much pain and utter anguish in a god is enough to split the heavens when they cry out. We could have been a thousand miles away and we still would have heard it.” Skuld pushed a hand back through her hair, leveling a sad gaze on him. “The others with us called it thunder but we knew what it was.”

His tone grew kind, his eyes locking on her face. “When did you hear it?”

The girl let out a heavy sigh. “Charles was left behind on the morning of December 21st. We heard her cry out late afternoon on December 22nd. And it broke our hearts to hear it. We set against the group soon after.”

The softly uttered comment made Sam do a double take. He hadn't misheard her, hadn't imagined the ominous words falling from the innocent looking form. The more he played the phrase over in his head the more he caught himself hoping it didn't mean what he thought it did. “What?”

“We had to wait until nightfall before we could get away from the group so we had time to come up with a fitting punishment. Urd may have been broken but Verdandi and I were pissed. The man she loved, the one she was searching for a way to keep with her, was gone. You do not hurt our sister and think retribution won't find you,” Skuld answered evenly. “We sat in that camp for hours waiting for nightfall so we could go back to her. We watched the humans who left him behind, the ones who chose the route that let him die in those mountains, and we thought out punishment.”

Sam couldn't hide the shock on his face at her oh so calm answer. They were Fate incarnate, a fact not lost on either Sam or Dean, and things happened in their presence that changed history. But Skuld's admission began to make him wonder about other events. Mythology was full of stories about vengeful gods but this was far from some long ago fable.

“We headed back to her that night, broke our disguises and changed form to fly back. It had snowed but we found them. Urd was sitting beneath that tree with him in her arms; she hadn't moved an inch from the moment we left. Seeing her like that, like a part of her had died, just made us angrier,” she continued solemnly.

He was quiet as she recounted the past. There was still pain in the girl's voice as she spoke, like a wound had been reopened with each word she said. But there was something more in the way she spoke, the way she and Verdandi had reacted all those years ago. They hadn't acted simply for the sake of revenge; they had acted out of love and loyalty to their sister. The more he heard the clearer it became.

Skuld's jaw set as her eyes moved across the park. “We didn't care if the humans found out what we were; we were done blending in. Our sister needed to be avenged and Verdandi and I knew how to do it.”

Sam contemplated his next question carefully. His brow drew together as he studied the small body next to him. This was no ordinary girl but a goddess he was dealing with and no matter how innocent she looked he couldn't forget that fact.

“What did you do?” he asked cautiously.

“Urd wasn't going to leave Charles to the animals so we buried him and promised her we'd come back to him but first we needed her help. We brought her back to the camp and told her we would only need a couple strings pulled. Verdandi and I would deal with the humans so she wouldn't have to.” Her eyes moved to Sam, her voice as calm as it had ever been. “We worked our way through the group; whispering in their ears, planting doubts of survival and, in some cases, sanity. We hardly lifted a finger to send them into a downward spiral.”

“You pushed them into cannibalism and murder?” he questioned.

“They were already on that path, Sam. Starving, snowbound and slowly freezing to death. They were already considering that option as a means to survive,” she informed, giving a small shrug. “A simple whisper of “we don't have enough food” or “no one is coming to save us” was all it took to send them down that dark road.”

He stared at her in disbelief, amazed at what he was hearing. “What about the others in the Donner Party? The ones who stayed behind?”

Skuld gave an almost dismissive little shrug as she watched a squirrel hop across the grass. “Those weren't entirely ours. We did go back to the Truckee Lake camp but it wasn't to punish them. It was mostly women and children there. But there was the mad German Keseburg. He was punishment enough for them.”

“Then why did you go back?”

“To get Charles' belongings,” Skuld answered softly. “We gathered those, took Urd back to reclaim his body, then we joined the few women left to be rescued. That photo was taken of the First Relief and remaining members of the Forelorn Hope.”

Sam pulled the photo from the notebook and took another look at the trio. “What happened to his body?”

There was a hint of a smile on her lips but it wasn't at all malicious as he expected. “Historically, he was found where he was left. Truthfully, he was laid to rest in a crypt that only Urd holds the key to, encased in spells and protective wards that make King Arthur's resting place seem like a shoebox.”

He sat back against the bench, keeping the photo in his hand. Looking at the image Sam couldn't help but think back to Urd's reaction. Hearing what had happened; her reaction didn't seem so strange. “Urd saw this photo and almost broke down.”

The girl let her attention shift to the sepia tinted image. “Not surprising. She's never really gotten over that. Almost 200 years later and she still mourns him as if it happened yesterday.” She let out a heavy sigh, pulling her legs up on the seat. “After the rescue she was hospitalized for months. The doctors said it was traumatic shock. She wouldn't eat or talk, just slept with a piece of his clothing. Sixteen years later during the Civil War, she was still withdrawn.”

Sam stared at the photo for a moment, focusing on the humans in it. “You saw what those people went through, all that death, and your part in it doesn't bother you?”

Skuld studied the man beside her quizzically before slipping off the bench. Her head cocked to the side and her hands rested on her hips as she continued to give him an almost incredulous look.

“Put yourself in our situation. Your older sister's world has fallen apart, a part of her has died, and the ones who let it happen are right in front of you.” She brought a hand up, extending a pinky for Sam to see as her expression grew cold. “You have more power in your pinky alone than anyone knows and you aren't going to do anything? What would you do, Sam?”

His answer was not quick in coming as she watched him expectantly. He couldn't begin to piece together an honest reply no matter how he considered what she had told him. He could understand the loyalty that had driven them even if he really didn't understand the lengths at which they carried everything out. The more he thought though, the more he could see himself doing just as they had for Dean.

His silence was answer enough for Skuld, giving Sam a nod as she folded her arms over her chest. “Not an easy answer, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Sam murmured.

Skuld's lips pursed for a moment before she rejoined him on the bench. “We've been watching out for one another since the beginning. A little godly retribution here or there becomes expected after a while. Plus that's how myths are born.”

Sam pushed the photo back into the notebook, Skuld kicking her legs slightly. “I've still got a lot to learn about you three.”

“If you're good to us, Sam, we'll tell you everything,” Skuld offered. She grinned at him and picked up her comic book, making a point of tapping the notebook in his hands. “I want my own section though.”

***

Dean tossed his pen aside with a huff, running a hand over his face.

He had been staring at who knew how many web pages in an effort to track down a spell powerful enough to break the collars with no luck. The longer he looked, the more the words began running into one another. He was beginning to wonder how Bobby managed researching anything without pulling his hair out.

He looked across the room to the figure camped out on the couch.

Urd was curled up with a legal pad and pen at the end of the tacky looking sofa scribbling down any spell idea she could come up with to help. She looked just as frustrated as he was, rolling her pen cap between her teeth. Even the sigh she let out as she flipped to a clean page sounded annoyed.

“How's the brainstorming going?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Annoyingly slow.” Urd looked from her paper, rolling her head against her shoulders with a pop. “I know too many spells that can qualify as binding spells.”

Dean closed the laptop in front of him, resting his elbows on the table. “I don't get this.”

“Get what?” the young woman questioned.

“How does a Fate goddess know so much about spells?” He gave a shrug, motioning to the legal pad in her lap. “All those rattling around in your head like that.”

Urd got up and walked over to him, tossing the pad of paper down. “When you've been around as long as we have, you learn a few things.”

Dean looked over the pages as she took a seat across from him. “Looks like you learned a lot.”

“We get a lot of free-time on occasion. So I read and I study and some of it happens to be about what your kind dabbles with.” Urd folded her hands on the table in front of her as he read. “It pays to know what others have up their sleeves. Granted I don't know everything you humans come up with but still.”

He flipped through the pages, raising an eyebrow. “All these work?”

“Mostly against lesser beings but yeah. Banshee, ghosts, nature spirits and the like.” Her eyes locked on Dean's face and the amazed expression painted on it. “You've never even heard of those, have you?”

“No. I don't even think Bobby's heard of these,” Dean answered, shaking his head.

Urd put her chin on her interlaced fingers with a sigh. “Most of them have been “lost” over time. At least lost to humans at any rate.”

Dean flipped back to the first page, turning his attention to the woman across from him.

This had to be a first for them. Since Urd had been with them, the pair had been at each other. It was a not so subtle battle of the personalities from the start and he figured it would stay that way. But here they were in a civil moment with not one sarcastic comment from either of them. He felt like he could ask her anything.

He shook his head at the thought and pushed the papers back across the table, grabbing for the laptop once more.

Urd watched the young man seated across from her quietly. Dean had been the least approachable of the pair from the start in her mind. At least, that was how he had come off. He had done his damnedest to keep a distance from her; the little clashes of personality between them and handing her off to Sam becoming almost common place. In fact, she had written it all off as a hunter trait with him.

But sitting here now, something was different. He wasn't just the sarcastic do-the-job hunter from the bookstore alley. Sitting across from him now was like sitting across from any other person just finding out about them. There was a curiosity just below the surface that he seemed to be fighting against, the slight shift of emotion in his eyes a telltale sign. She wasn't sure what he was wrestling with but she knew it was something he'd probably end up burying if it wasn't touched on.

“Something on your mind, Dean?” Urd asked softly.

Something was a bit of an understatement. Dean had more on his mind than he'd admit to anyone, even Sam. It was a growing pressure that needed to be released; the nagging thoughts about his father and those last words said to him in the hospital weighing heavy on him. The feeling of not knowing anything had been eating at him until he couldn't take it anymore. At least until this job. Coming face to face with Fate, the living breathing goddesses themselves, had made that weight seem to ease. If anyone had the answers, even if he didn't like them, it would be those women. It hadn't been until now that he actually got the chance to ask.

Dean took an even breath and let it out in a sigh. “Where would I even start?”

Urd smiled and sat up, waiting patiently.

“How much of a role do you play in people's lives?” He paused for a moment as he considered his wording. “How does it work?”

Her smile softened as she looked across the table. “Are you asking about individual lives?”

Dean answered with a nod, a sudden heavy feeling pressing down on him.

Urd sat forward, catching the subtle way he straightened as if he were bracing for some bad news. “It’s not exactly easy to explain. And I'm sorry if my answers sound callous.”

There was genuine sincerity in her voice as she spoke, something that surprised the young man.

“My sisters and I very seldom play a role in an individual life, contrary to what some believe. We come into play when history changes. Sometimes it’s the death of one person, sometimes its many more.” She brought a hand up to the side of her neck, resting her jaw against her palm. “Honestly, we have a habit of not caring until your number is up.”

Dean could feel a little of the pressure ease from his shoulders with her answer.

“Somewhere down the line you humans took us to be the controllers of everything that each one of you does. Maybe it was because someone saw us at an accident or something. But we aren't. You control your own actions and choices until our paths cross,” she explained, giving a tiny shrug. “That's how free will works.”

Dean gave her an odd look, his head cocking slightly. “Free will, huh? This from the woman who referred to us as puppets on strings.”

“Like I said, it’s not easy to explain.” Urd raised her right hand, Dean's eyes catching the telltale glimmer of his thread dancing around her fingers. “Yes, I can use this thread to move you. I can do it with any thread but I'd rather not. That's not to say I haven't done it before but in most cases I'd rather just watch where you move yourself.”

A quick wave of her hand and the thread vanished. She sat back in her chair as Dean rubbed at his breastbone, sighing softly. She sat quietly for a moment, carefully choosing her words in the silence before continuing the explanation.

“We've always liked the fact your kind has strong wills. You do what you want, when you want and damn what others say. For some of you, it comes out terrible sometimes but that's to be expected. We don't mess with your free will the way others try,” she stated. “Or try not to at least.”

“What about the people you hook up with? Or the ones you become friends with?” he questioned.

“Our favorites.” Urd laughed softly, shaking her head. “Those ones we do treat differently. We give them warnings about things if they're in the wrong place. There are some I've had to throw or pull to safety. Those are the few individuals we've played a role with.”

Dean listened quietly to her answer, relaxing against the chair back. “You ever throw Bobby?”

Urd shook her head. “No. But he has held a gun on me before. And he got punched for it.”

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Bobby being hit by the woman seated across from him. He wasn't sure how hard the young woman could hit or for that matter what form she had been in but he was pretty sure it would have hurt. That and picturing Bobby being wailed on by a goddess was amusing.

“If need be though, I would end up either warning him or moving him,” she added. “If it came down to it.”

He pushed the mental image aside with a grin and a clearing of his throat, leveling his gaze on Urd. “I'm sure he'd appreciate the save.”

“But until that time comes, I let him do as he pleases.” Urd watched Dean nod, running her fingers over the table's top. “And be his historical go to for things when the need arises.”

“You help Bobby and he helps other hunters,” Dean muttered.

“Believe me, it makes for some interesting phone calls,” Urd stated calmly.

Dean got up and headed toward the small kitchen counter, putting some distance between the two of them. He was still rolling the woman's answers around in his head. Even though he had brought the topic up, it was making him a little uncomfortable.

“So how does it work?” He turned at the counter, leaning against the sink as he spoke. “You three go around the planet acting human until some voice pops into your head telling you to kill?”

Urd's expression became somber as she looked at Dean, biting her lower lip. “Not exactly.”

“Then how?” Dean pressed.

“Instinct and will, Dean. Instinct tells us where to be but it’s our will that makes things happen. If I feel like pulling someone's thread, that's up to me. The same thing with my sisters,” she replied, watching him from the table. “Gods and men bow to our will, no exceptions.”

“Instinct?” Dean's expression was confused as his voice took a hard edge.

Urd sighed, pushing herself up from the table. “Your kind doesn't understand instinct anymore. You've lost it so long ago it’s an alien term to you now.

Dean found himself holding on to the counter's edge as she stood. “So someone dies while the next guy lives is based on if you feel like it?”

“Pretty much,” she answered.

“That how it was with my dad?” he asked, the edge still in his voice.

Urd's brow knit at the question as her expression darkened. “What?”

“Is that what happened with my dad?” He crossed his arms over his chest with a small shrug, trying to keep the harshness out of his words. “You just felt like pulling his thread that day?”

Urd's eyes softened, shaking her head slowly.

She had been here before, Dean's question bringing up a topic she had come across once. Last time it had been a phone call from Bobby that prompted the talk but this was far from a cross country call. Dean was face to face with her instead of a voice over a phone line. Seeing the hints of emotion flash in his eyes while his face showed nothing was far different than simply listening for a hint of a vocal cue.

“You think we were behind your father's death?” She kept the table between them as she tried to read him. “That somehow we were behind it?”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, feeling slightly uneasy under her gaze.

“Dean, your father was not one of ours. I only met John once and that was it. He wasn't one of ours at all,” she answered.

Though his face remained unreadable, the subtle flash in his eyes showed her answer was less than comforting.

“What we do isn't exactly an easy job, especially when we're blamed for things we don't have a hand in. And it’s hard to explain that to a species who, overtime, made us the rulers of even the most mundane aspects of your lives,” Urd added. Her hands fell down to her sides with a sigh and a shake of her head. “No matter how many times we explain it to humans, we can't erase countless centuries of myth your kind considers truth about us.”

Dean was silent for a moment, his gaze moving to the kitchen's tacky yellow linoleum. “You said you don't mess with our free will.”

“We try not. That's why hearing you humans say that someone avoided dying in an accident because they stopped for coffee was “fate” is so ridiculous to us. We don't tell you where to be. That's how free will works. A step to the right here or stay at this place instead of that and you change how things end up for you. Free will can trump us sometimes. “She leaned forward, resting her hands on the table's top. “That's why we get a laugh out of people who claim to know the future as if it’s written in stone. There are only three people who know what's going to happen and we rarely talk to anyone about it.”

Dean straightened at her comment, his eyes quickly moving to her face. “What happens?”

“You really want to know?” Urd cocked her head as he gave a small nod. “Everything dies and my sisters and I get to watch.”

The air felt heavy between them, Dean pushing away from the counter. He suddenly felt the need to put some more distance between himself and the young woman at the table. The way her blue eyes almost seemed to stare through him made him even more uneasy.

“Gotta hit the head,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. He passed the table and gave her a dismissive nod. “Help yourself to the computer.”

She listened quietly to his retreating footsteps and the closing of the bathroom door before returning to her seat.

A deep sigh made her shoulders sink; her fingertips pushing the spell covered legal pad out of the way as she sat back. “Well, that went well.”

The sound of running water in the bathroom met her ears and she could only imagine what was going through the young man's mind. She knew their conversation had worn down Dean's defensive walls; she had seen it in his eyes as they spoke. He was probably splashing some water on his face trying to compose himself.

She let her head fall back against the chair as she slumped down in her seat.

Researching more spells wasn't high on her “to do” list anymore and she doubted it was on Dean's either. The pages of scribbled spells that had been rattling around in her head hadn't been much help, Dean's computer search ending on the same note. It was depressing to see all this work they were doing amount to nothing.

Her head rolled to the side as she heard the motel door open, a rather unamused look on her face.

Sam was across the threshold and about to shut the door when he paused, brow knitting as he noticed the young woman's expression. “Um...hi?”

“Hi, Sam.” Urd let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair. “How was the library?”

The door closed with a soft click, Sam looking around as he walked toward the table. “Quiet. Where's Dean?”

“Bathroom,” Urd mumbled, letting her gaze move to her feet.

Sam gave a slow nod and stopped beside the table, tossing his notebook near the laptop. “How's the spell research going?”

“Stopped it,” she answered flatly.

He said nothing as she kicked her feet absently beneath the table. His talk with Skuld was still fresh in his mind as he watched the young woman for a moment before shaking his head. He let out a small huff and moved to the kitchen for a drink.

The water in the bathroom shut off, Dean returning looking more like the hunter Urd was used to. A quick glance toward the young woman and a small clearing of his throat and he was back to business as usual. He didn't even look as if anything had happened at all.

“Did you find anything, Sam?”

The question made Urd glance up from her feet toward the younger man before she put her head on the table.

Sam shut the kitchen faucet off and swirled the cold water around in his glass before taking a drink. “Too much and not enough.”

“Great,” Dean sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Urd's eyes moved to the pair as they spoke, keeping her head on the table.

“I dug up all I could on each victim and the only common connection they had was that they ended up dead by the Fates.” Sam looked toward Urd, nodding her way. “You and Kim's list seem to be the only connections.”

“Not exactly helpful,” Urd muttered.

“No its not.” Dean was silent for a moment as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “What about jobs or something?”

Sam shook his head, setting his glass on the counter. “The victims read like a cross section of town. Everyone from a lawyer to two unemployed women drawing state aid.”

Dean moved back to the table, taking his seat once more. “Doesn't exactly scream motive.”

“Maybe we're looking too deep into all this,” Sam offered. He closed the distance to the table, looking at the pair. “Maybe we're looking for a motive when there really isn't one. Maybe this Kim woman is just crazy.”

“I vote for the whole crazy thing,” Urd chimed in. Her tone was sincere as she sat up, looking at the men. “I mean who in their right mind has a lawn gnome. Seriously.”

Both men shot her an odd look at the comment as she gave a questioning shrug and reached for Sam's notebook.

“So crazy lady manages to trap the Fates and proceeds to wipe out the town just because she can,” Dean mused. He rolled his eyes, resting his arms on the tabletop. “That sounds completely sane to me.”

Sam let out a huff and shrugged, looking down at his brother. “You have any better ideas, I'm all ears.”

Urd flipped through Sam's notes, chewing at her cheek. “What about Kim's job?”

Both men paused, watching her skim over the pages of victim notes. Dean looked almost shocked at the serious question while Sam seemed to be mulling it over in his head. It wasn't until Urd glanced up from the pages that one of them said something.

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned.

“She works at an insurance agency, right?” Urd picked up one of the victims Sam researched, reading over the packet. “Maybe she had dealings with the victims that way.”

Sam walked toward Urd as she looked through the victim files. “I've been going through so many names it never dawned on me to check her job for a connection.”

“Twenty-five names are enough to make anyone overlook something. “ Urd sat back with a sigh, motioning toward the papers. “And it’s not like all this is easy to sort through.”

Sam pulled up a chair and began skimming through the collection of research as Urd looked across the table toward Dean.

“You sound like you've dealt with crazy humans before,” she said evenly.

Dean's lips pulled into an almost cocky grin as he gave a shrug. “A couple. Capturing a handful of pagan goddesses is a new one though.”

The young woman's arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursing thoughtfully. “I'm sure all this is very educational for you two.”

The shuffling of papers stopped, Sam straightening slightly as he read beside her.

“I myself find this highly educational,” she said calmly. She thumbed at the iron ring around her throat, an unamused expression on her face. “I've learned some of you humans are batshit crazy with major death wishes.”

“I think I found something,” Sam informed.

Dean and Urd's attention turned to the younger man as he set the paper down. After their uneventful morning the even remote chance for some type of lead was promising. It made the hours in front of a computer and scribbling random spells seem less pointless.

“The first “victim” in town was a man named Phillip Byron. By all accounts he was a good guy, well-liked by everyone.” Sam pulled out an obituary, letting the pair get a look at the accompanying photo. “He was jogging when he died. His accident scene was the first photo that the Fates showed up in.”

Urd nodded slowly, sighing heavily as she looked at the black and white picture. “Tripped over the laces of his running shoe and fell in front of a uniform truck. They had to scrape him off the pavement after that.”

Dean winced at the mental image of the man in the newspaper photo being reduced to a smear on the asphalt. “So what's the connection to crazy Kim?”

“Byron was a partner at Byron and Rogers Insurance.” Sam flipped to his earlier research on Kim, turning the notebook around for Dean to read. “The same company Kim works at.”

Urd raised an eyebrow as she glanced toward Sam. “She had us kill one of her bosses?”

“With a uniform truck,” Dean muttered evenly as he read.

“Not my first choice.” Urd brought a hand up to comb through her hair with an uneasy sigh. “That was Verdandi.”

Dean pushed the notebook away and looked across the table at his brother. “Well, that's more than we had a minute ago.”

“Byron and Rogers is the only insurance agency in town. How much you want to bet they've got the Ballard’s as clients,” Sam informed.

Dean looked over the mess of papers laying across the table. “Worth looking into.”

“So you two are gonna just show up at her office? I'm sure she's gonna love that.” Urd gave a small shrug as she looked from Dean to Sam. “That sounds oh so safe.”

“Ballard's death is still being investigated so a couple FBI agents showing up shouldn't raise any red flags,” Sam informed.

“And that's the best lead we have so far.” Dean pushed away from the table as Sam began to gather up everything. “Maybe we can find something there.”

Urd let out a heavy sigh as she shook her head, watching the older man walk toward the bedroom. “For the record, I feel this is a bad idea.”

“Duly noted,” Dean shot back, waving the young woman off.

Her gaze shifted to Sam as he gathered up the papers. “How do you manage not to hit him on a daily basis?”

“Years of practice.” Sam put the notebook and research pages aside, giving the goddess a reassuring smile. “We've done this before, Urd. We'll be fine.”

Urd remained seated as Sam left to get changed, letting out an even breath. “Famous last words.”


	19. Chapter 19

Byron and Rogers Insurance sat in a small building off Main that shared a parking lot with the local bank. It wasn't much to look at from the street; the building it occupied looking more like a house than a business. There was no sign to really mark the business from the street, only the agency name painted across the large front window with a pair of crisp looking white curtains hanging behind the dark lettering. It fit right into the small town atmosphere.

“How does someone who works in a place like this snap as bad as this Kim woman has?” Dean wondered aloud, looking at the building from across the street.

Sam took a long look at the place as he stepped from the car, the door closing with its familiar squeak. “What makes anyone snap? I mean it could be anything.”

“With our usual hunts it’s easy.” Dean shrugged as he walked to the front of the car. “A ghost or spirit kills out of anger or revenge.”

“And that's easy?” Sam questioned, looking over the roof.

Dean stopped at the hood, Sam walking around to join him. “Yes. At least we can figure out their motive. Humans are a whole different game.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and paused beside the driver's headlight, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Really?”

“You don't know what humans are thinking,” Dean explained, giving his tie a tug to straighten it. “Are they killing because someone cut in front of them at the store or stepped on their lawn? Who knows.”

Sam shook his head as they headed across the street. “In her mind she probably thinks she's doing nothing wrong.”

“Well, we both know three women who disagree with that,” Dean muttered.

They stepped up on the curb, Dean checking the badge in his pocket while Sam fastened his jacket.

“Demons and ghosts I get, Sam, but people are crazy,” Dean said calmly reaching for the door.

Sam couldn't really argue with his brother's logic. They had been on enough cases where the human element had been crazier than the supernatural one that Dean's words were an immutable truth. It didn't even seem odd to him anymore to wind up considering humans and not just monsters on jobs.

The agency door opened with a gentle pull, the chill of the buildings air conditioning against their faces a welcome break from the heat outside. The air smelled faintly of some floral concoction but if it came from one of the handful of arrangements in the place or an air freshener somewhere was either man's guess. Looking around, the building really didn't feel too much like a business at all save for the desk, pair of waiting chairs and couple filing cabinets sitting in front of a hallway leading to the back.

“Not bad for a small town,” Sam muttered softly as he looked around. “Looks like they do a lot of business.”

“With half the town on a hit list, I wouldn't be surprised,” Dean replied under his breath.

There was the sound of a door opening just down the hall and a man's voice as the pair went quiet. They watched as two people stepped from a side door and began to walk their way but said nothing; the older man handing a couple files to Kim's familiar form. They remained silent as Kim and her employer neared; each one easily turning on the Fed act.

Kim still looked as frumpy as ever; the skirt and button down blouse making her look more uncomfortable than anything. The man beside her though seemed more at ease. He was much taller than Kim, his dark suit hanging comfortably from his medium frame. His light brown hair was neatly kept with the slightest hint of grey at his temples though he didn’t look that old. Looking between the pair, the contrast was amazing.

“File these and then pull the Henderson account for me.” The man’s eyes moved from Kim to the boys, giving them a welcoming smile. “How can I help you gentlemen today?”

“Agents Mercury and May, FBI,” Dean introduced, pulling his badge from his pocket as Sam flashed his. “We're investigating Marcus Ballard's death and had a couple questions.”

“Of course.” The man gave them a nod and extended his hand to each. “I'm Lucas Rogers.”

Kim stared at the pair as they shook her boss' hand, Sam catching a less than happy look in her eyes as he glanced her way.

“And this is Kimberly Martin-Lund,” Rogers introduced, motioning to the woman beside him.

Dean gave her his best Fed smile, nodding toward her at Roger's greeting. “We've actually met before.”

“Agents.” Her tone was clipped, tapping her fingers against the file in her hands as she nodded toward the desk. “If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.”

The older man cleared his throat as Kim wandered off and motioned down the hallway behind him. “We can talk in my office.”

Dean moved to follow Rogers down the hall after shooting Sam a quick glance. “You seem to have a pretty good business here, Mr. Rogers.”

Sam slowly fell in line behind Dean, making a show of looking at the photos that dotted the hallway. Each turn of his head brought the reception’s desk into his peripheral vision, watching for Kim to come into view. Both he and Dean knew their appearance here didn't sit well with her and, after everything that had happened, neither of them putting anything past her.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Kim moving to the desk, her hand reaching for the top drawer. He caught the sound of the drawer sliding open as she slid a hand inside and pulled out three objects. Sam didn't need to get a good look at them to know they weren't office related.

“The town may be small but the people are loyal customers. Been here for years thanks to them,” Lucas replied. He led the pair into the office he had exited earlier, stepping aside for them. “You really get to know your clients well in small towns.”

Dean entered first, taking a seat as Sam joined him. “I’m sure you do.”

Lucas shut the door behind them and crossed to his desk, taking a seat with a heavy sigh. “You said you were investigating Marcus Ballard’s death?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied with a nod. “We’re trying to gather as much information as possible to help close the case.”

Lucas nodded solemnly as he sat back against the leather chair. “It was a shock to hear he had died. It was even worse to hear he was murdered. He was a good man.”

“Did you know him well?” Dean questioned.

“A town this size it’s hard not to. He was in my son’s graduating class,” Lucas replied.

Sam kept the tone of his voice respectful as he spoke to the older man. “Did he have a policy here?”

“Yes. Life, home and auto. He upgraded the life part when he joined the Fire Department.” The older man thought for a moment, nodding to himself. “He switched to a higher premium policy so his family would be taken care of if something happened on the job.”

“His wife was the listed beneficiary?” Dean questioned.

“His family was listed as a whole but Sarah was the recipient,” Lucas answered, confusion flashing across his face. “You don’t think she had anything to do with his death, do you?”

Dean shook his head. “No but we have to check everything.”

“Do you know if anyone else had a policy on him?” Sam sat forward slightly, keeping his eyes on Lucas. “Like a second life insurance policy under a different name?”

The older man shook his head. “No. If I had found one I would have reported it at any rate.” He shrugged and leaned against his desk for a moment, motioning around the room. “Like I said, this is a small town. Not exactly a hotbed of insurance fraud.”

Sam thought back to Urd’s list for a moment before he continued. “Have you come across any odd policies lately?”

Lucas shook his head. “No. And with as many accidents as the people in town have been having, I think I would have noticed if I had.”

“We heard about all the deaths in town,” Dean began, motioning between himself and Sam. “We’ve never heard about a place with so much bad luck before.”

Lucas folded his hands together on his desk as he looked at the pair. “I tell ya, it’s almost habit now to open the local paper and look for another neighbor listed in the obituaries. First the accidents and now a murder; the way things are going, it’s almost like the town is cursed or something.”

Dean cleared his throat at the comment, glancing toward Sam briefly. “That’s an interesting way to look at it.”

“We heard your business partner passed away recently,” Sam said carefully, ignoring his brother’s remark. “Our condolences.”

Lucas nodded with a heavy sigh, his eyes moving to a photo sitting on his desk. “Thanks. Phil was a great guy. He and I built this agency from the ground up.”

Both men were silent as Lucas turned the photo around for them to see Byron and Rogers smiling out from a fishing trip.

“He had been on a bit of a health kick since his heart attack scare and started running.” The man laughed softly, rolling his eyes. “He was so damn worried about his heart killing him only to be killed by a truck in the end.”

Sam sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry.”

Lucas shrugged, his eyes moving from the picture to the brothers. “I guess when you’re fated to die, there’s no way around it.”

Dean pursed his lips at the older man’s wording as Sam straightened, casting his eyes to the floor. The man behind the desk had no idea how true those words were given the circumstances. The choice of words wasn’t lost on Dean though as he fought to keep the smartass comment running through his brain from being said aloud.

“Did you know any of the others who died?” Sam questioned.

“A handful,” Lucas replied evenly. “One or two of them had policies with us, a couple others I remember running into on the street from time to time.”

The answer did little to shed any light on what was going on and both Dean and Sam knew it. The only tie between Kim and victim number one was the office where they both worked. As for the others on the list, Dean’s “who knows what they’re thinking” argument was beginning to be the only explanation.

“I think we’ve taken up enough of your time.” Sam offered the man a friendly smile as he and Dean rose from their chairs. “We should really let you get back to work.”

Lucas stood along with the two, moving to the front of his desk. “I hope I was able to give you something helpful.”

“You did, Mr. Rogers.” Dean pulled out a business card from his inside pocket and handed it over. “If you can think of anything else or come across any odd policies, please give us a call.”

“Of course,” Lucas answered, looking over the card in his hand.

Sam opened the office door and stepped into the hallway with Dean following, his gaze moving to the lobby where Kim had been. He couldn’t hear anything as they moved for the lobby; no opening of drawers or shuffling of papers one would expect to hear. There were just no sounds at all.

He paused as they stepped into the empty lobby, Kim nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d Kim go?” Dean questioned as he came up beside Sam.

An uneasy feeling came over both men at the woman’s sudden disappearance, Sam’s mind going back to the objects Kim had removed from the desk. 

~*~

Urd studied the playground from the top of the wooden castle, resting her chin on the wall with a heavy sigh.

The feeling they were never going to leave was starting to weight at her again coupled by the fact that all the work she and the boys had been doing was going nowhere fast. All the research and investigating and the tracking of leads that didn’t pan out was growing old rather quickly for her. Three months trapped as a private hit squad would kill anyone’s patients though.

“You are a very depressing child, young lady.”

Urd looked to the base of the castle and Verdandi’s smug smile, rolling her eyes at the coffee sipping young woman. “Lick me, bitch.”

The sound of a shocked gasp made both sisters turn in time to see an offended looking mother quickly ushering her son from the playground, hands firmly clamped over his ears.

“What a little delinquent you are. Scaring these innocent people away with your foul language. You should be ashamed.” Verdandi took a drink from her cup, smacking her lips with a grin. “Tasty.”

Urd pushed herself away from the wall with a huff and stalked over to the fireman’s pole, sliding down. “Like you give a shit.”

“Ya know if you practice enough, when you grow up you can get a job where men will pay you to do that,” Verdandi muttered.

Urd walked over to her sister, flipping her off as she stepped on the sidewalk. “But then you’d be out of a job.”

“You’re just a damn laugh riot.” Verdandi fell in step beside the child as she took another sip of her coffee, pushing her hair behind her ear. “No wonder that Dean guy shot you.”

The girl rolled her eyes and continued walking along the sidewalk toward one of the shaded benches. “He wasn’t too pleased with you, by the way.”

A third set of footsteps joined the pair as they walked, the elderly woman suddenly beside Verdandi raising an eyebrow. “Are we talking about her carjacking plot?”

Skuld didn’t even look recognizable in her current form. Her usually flawless skin was slack and wrinkled, the white hair that normally hung down her back pulled into a bun. Her form was shorter and rounder than that of Verdandi’s, her back bowed slightly as she scuttled along the sidewalk with her sisters. She wore a white button blouse and a light brown skirt that stopped halfway down her calves, the white sneakers she wore looking like something a nurse would wear on duty. All she was missing was a cane and an overly thick pair of glasses to go from English nanny to eccentric old woman.

“Watch it, ya old bat,” Verdandi hissed. She shot a cold glare at Skuld’s elderly form, leveling her coffee cup at her. “We can still put you on an ice flow and send you out to sea.”

“It’s summer and we’re in Ohio,” Skuld grinned, looking up at the slightly taller woman. “That makes your threat invalid.”

Urd stopped where she was, turning to look at her sisters beneath a shade tree. “Just once can we have a get together that doesn’t involve threats? I mean really.”

Skuld pursed her lips at the question while Verdandi swirled her coffee cup around in her hand absently.

To anyone who saw them, the trio looked like three generations out to enjoy the park. They were just an innocent looking little girl and her mother, coffee in hand, taking advantage of the weather with the child’s grandmother. It wasn’t until one walked close enough to hear them talk that the illusion was broken.

“Not my fault Verdandi is an evil crazed super bitch,” Skuld muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

Urd threw her hands up with an exasperated sigh, continuing along the pavement. “You two are impossible.”

Verdandi took another long sip from her cup, her tone almost bored as she spoke. “So how’s the research going with your hunter friends?”

“Slow.” Urd took a seat on a bench she knew was secluded, sighing heavily. “The boys are digging but not finding much.”

“You call them “the boys” now?” Verdandi questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Skuld took a seat beside Urd, brushing her hands over her skirt. “I rather like being able to call them something other than “those hunters” myself.”

Urd slid back against the bench, her feet dangling above the ground. “Sam and Dean are doing their best to help us.”

“And Sam is actually really nice,” Skuld informed with a smile. She practically beamed as she turned to the girl beside her. “He listens and he didn’t automatically pull a gun on me.”

Urd stared blankly at her sister for a moment before shaking her head. “Did you approach him looking like my nanny?”

“Little girl,” Skuld replied, shaking her head. “Seemed safer.”

Verdandi snickered as she looked at the pair on the bench. “So you thought he’d shoot you?”

“After how you greeted Dean, do you blame her?” Urd shot back.

Verdandi’s jaw set, glaring at Urd as the child rose from the bench.

“I know you like pushing buttons. We all know that.” Urd began to change form as she stepped closer to her sister, the child becoming a young woman in seconds. She stood toe to toe with Verdandi and leveled a stern look at her younger sister. “But when it comes to these two, I suggest you pull it back. Trying to work with them and not kill you is getting hard.”

Skuld relaxed against the bench, hooking an arm over the back. The years on her face reversed, loose skin becoming taught as her body slimmed down and her back straightened. Her change from octogenarian nanny to twenty-something secretary was over in a heartbeat, her appearance mirroring her sisters as she looked around the park. “Where are they anyway?”

Skuld’s question managed to pull Verdandi’s attention from Urd and defuse the potential standoff brewing, the black haired woman looking around the park briefly.

“They’re at Kim’s workplace looking into a couple things,” Urd answered.

Verdandi finished what was in her cup, throwing it in a nearby trashcan. “Her workplace? What could they possibly find there?”

“She works at an insurance agency where Ballard probably had a policy.” Urd took a seat beside Skuld once more as Verdandi stood with her arms crossed over her chest. “Same place jogger guy worked.”

“Jogger guy?” Verdandi thought for a moment before her face lit up in an almost proud smile. “Oh, him!”

Skuld watched Verdandi with a quizzically cocked eyebrow, shaking her head before turning her attention to Urd. “So they worked together?”

“He was her boss,” Urd stated.

Their reaction to the news was mixed with Verdandi chuckling while Skuld openly cringed. Honestly Urd wasn’t surprised by the reactions of the two; after a couple thousand years there was no real shock with her sisters. Though she had expected more from Verdandi than just a chuckle.

“So she had us kill her boss?” Skuld shrugged as she thought, drumming her fingers on the back of the bench. “Millions of people wish they could kill their boss and this one manages to pull it off.”

“Technically, we killed him,” Urd muttered.

Verdandi waved off the comment. “Wonder why she killed him. Maybe he spurned her advances in some failed office romance.”

Urd and Skuld stared at the young woman blankly before exchanging an awkward glance.

“What?” Verdandi shrugged as she glared at the pair. “Homely ass people need love too. I guess.”

Urd ran a hand over her face with a groan and hung her head at the comment.

“How are we even related to you?” Skuld questioned flatly.

Verdandi opened her mouth to respond but little more than a squeak came out.

A wave of panic swept over each woman as the collars snapped tight around their throats and brought them to their knees. They struggled for breath and clawed at the iron rings in vain; each one on the verge of blacking out when they vanished. It wasn’t until the rings loosened and they could breathe that the panic began to ebb.

They knelt where they appeared, each one gasping for air before slowly getting to their feet.

Verdandi rubbed at her throat as she took in their surroundings. “Where the hell are we?”

The words bounced off the corrugated metal around them to create an odd sounding echo as each examined the new location. Buildings surrounded them on all sides, the rounded walls a little disorienting at first glance. Blue sky shown bright above them but where they stood between the buildings was cast in shadows. The air was heavy around them with the earthy smell of crushed grains and the dull sounds of machinery none of them could recognize.

“This isn’t the usual basement setting for our little meetings,” Skuld muttered, kicking at the dusty ground.

Urd examined the ground at their feet and the crudely drawn summoning sigil in the dust. The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach was far from ignorable as she went over the timing in her head. None of this was right.

Skuld knelt down and picked up what looked like a dried piece of wood, turning it over in her hand. “Is this a corncob?”

Urd straightened and looked up the walls around them. “We’re at the grain elevator.”

“What the hell are we doing here?” Verdandi spat as she glared at her sisters.

“Following my orders.”

The three turned to see Kim come around a corner holding their silver and wooden symbols in her hand as well as the book they had been searching for.

Skuld stepped close to Urd and put a hand on her arm, her eyes on the woman in front of them. 

“What now?” Urd asked cautiously.

Kim opened the book in her hands and pulled out a photo, looking at the image with a scowl. “I have another job for you.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Verdandi muttered.

Urd let her attention waiver from Kim for a moment to give Verdandi a silencing look before once more settling back on the human. The uneasy feeling that twisted her stomach in knots grew worse with the way Kim eyed the photo. And she knew the timing was no simple coincidence; not with Sam and Dean literally a couple buildings away. She just hoped the target wasn’t who everything was pointing to.

“I command you, as your master, to do my bidding.” Kim held up the photo for the trio, her voice calm. “I want these two out of the way. They’re snooping too much.”

The sisters said nothing as Kim handed the photograph over, keeping their faces unreadable.

The subjects of the photo were clear as they walked along Main Street. The suits were a departure from the normal jeans and tee shirts the women had seen them in but the faces were unmistakable. Sam and Dean had finally made Kim’s list.

“FBI agents May and Mercury,” Kim informed.

The three women’s attention snapped back to Kim as she said the names.

“Federal agents?” Verdandi questioned.

“I order you to kill these two,” Kim said, matter of factly.

Verdandi growled and leveled an angry glare at the woman. “Ya know what, I’ve had just about enough of taking orders from you.”

Kim’s grip on the symbols in her hand tightened, her eyes narrowing. She focused on the black haired woman but said nothing at first. Instead she gave a quick nod and watched the woman go sailing into the grain silo behind her.

Verdandi hit the wall hard, the wind knocking out of her as she landed on the ground with a groan.

“Verdandi!” The shock in Skuld’s voice as she moved to check on her sister was unmistakable. “Are you alright?”

The answer came in a confused nod as the older woman gasped for breath, her younger sister examining her.

“Remember your place,” Kim scolded.

Verdandi and Skuld glanced up at the woman who took a step closer but it was Urd who reacted.

The goddess’s slender hand shot out and wrapped around the human’s throat, putting herself between her sisters and Kim. Her movements were lightning quick; standing a few feet away one second only to be directly in front of Kim the next. The cold look in the blonde’s eyes and the pressure at Kim’s throat did little to help the uneasy feeling that suddenly gripped Kim.

“You would be wise to remember who you are dealing with, human.” Urd’s voice was just as cold as her eyes, pressing her fingers into Kim’s throat. “You seem to forget that we aren’t toys you can simply toss around.”

Kim drew a gasping breath, holding up the items in her hands. “I control you.”

Skuld helped Verdandi to her feet while Urd kept her hand on Kim’s throat. They watched their sister silently, keeping her between Kim and themselves. Neither one moved to pull Urd back or stop the confrontation, knowing full well how foolish the move was.

“You may have control now but, mark my words, we will get out of these collars,” Urd said, her tone chillingly calm. Her eyes flashed dangerously, the icy blue giving way to a brief flash of swirling red. “And when we do, I will delight in personally ripping the flesh from your bones.”

Kim swallowed hard at the words, knowing it wasn’t simply a thinly veiled threat.

Urd’s eyes shifted back to blue, pushing Kim away and turning to her sisters. “Throw either of my sisters again and, collar be damned, I will kill you where you stand.”

Kim leaned back against one of the silo walls, rubbing at the now tender skin on her neck. She said nothing as her grip on the sister’s symbols tightened. But any thoughts of retaliation were silenced by the ache of her throat and the all too recent memory of that sudden flash of red in the goddess’ eyes.

Urd walked away from Kim without looking back with Skuld and Verdandi falling in line behind her. Rounding a corner gave the trio the chance to disappear, changing form and putting as much distance between themselves and Kim as they could. They stayed close, following over the rooftops and back to the park where they dropped out of sight.

The branches of the maple tree in the far corner of the park hid the three from sight; feathers giving way to skin and cloth against the backdrop of dark wood and leaves.

Verdandi plopped down on a heavy branch, shaking her head as she looked toward Urd nearby. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“Let me think for a minute.” Urd brought up a hand to wave the younger woman off. “Just let me think.”

Skuld worried her bottom lip as she perched on an adjacent branch, pushing the loose strands of hair from her face. “Those weren’t the right names. We can use that to our advantage.”

“For how long?” Verdandi glared at her sister, sitting forward on the branch beneath her. “The bitch is going to suspect something when no one dies.”

Skuld returned the glare with one of her own as she motioned back toward their previous meeting place. “The woman gave us the wrong names, Verdandi. And she’s not exactly firing on all cylinders.”

Urd examined the photo as the two women argued behind her.

“You’re just now figuring this out? Where the hell have you been for the last few months?” Verdandi questioned.

Urd let out a heavy sigh and turned to her sisters. “I’ve gotta go talk to the boys.”

Both women looked her way, Urd tapping the photo’s corner against her palm.

“Oh this is an interesting twist.” Verdandi sat back against the tree trunk and crossed her arms over her chest. “Telling the targets they’re targets.”

Skuld shrugged slightly as she looked between her older sisters. “Some warning is better than nothing. And they are helping us.”

“Kim had to have been watching them for a while to get a clear photo like this,” Urd explained as she looked at the picture.

“So she’s a stalker too? Even better,” Verdandi mumbled.

“She’s carrying the book we’ve been looking for on her; sending us first after her boss then others and now Sam and Dean because they’re snooping.” Urd paused, glancing from woman to woman. “And Skuld is right. They’re helping us and some warning is better than nothing.”

Skuld cocked her head slightly as she watched Urd slip the photo in her pocket. “You think she’ll figure out they’re helping us?”

Urd shook her head and shrugged. “Who knows with her.”

“So while you’re out warning those two about their impending doom, what should we do?” Verdandi stretched out, her legs dangling from either side of her branch. “Sit here and bombard people with acorns we scrounge up?”

An odd look crossed Urd’s face for a moment, eyes shifting between the women. She seemed a little unsure as she looked at the black haired woman with an almost regretful shake of her head. The heavy sigh only made the younger women wonder.

“I…” Urd took a deep breath as the odd look returned to her face, choosing her words carefully. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but do what comes natural.”

Verdandi straightened at the words while Skuld stared at the blonde in shock. “What?”

“Do what comes naturally,” Urd repeated calmly. She turned to Skuld and leveled an index finger at her. “Without killing anybody.”

Verdandi’s face lit with a smile and her eyes narrowed. The delight in them was eerie, making her grin creepy even for her sisters. “You have a plan?”

“Maybe.” Urd bit at her cheek and rubbed a spot on the back of her neck. “Just think up an accident and make it good.”

Urd’s quick change left her sisters staring after tail feathers through the leaves and a look of confusion on Skuld’s face.

“Think up an accident but don’t kill anyone. How the hell do we do that?” she mumbled.

“I have a couple ideas,” Verdandi purred, leaning back against the tree.

~*~

Dean pulled off his tie and tossed it rather unceremoniously on a nearby chair, Sam sinking down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

The trip to Kim’s work had left them both uneasy. Lucas Rogers had been helpful enough; confirming, at least in part, that a couple people on the list along with Ballard held policies there. But it had been Kim’s quick disappearance after their arrival that had worried them. That, coupled with Sam witnessing her pulling something from her desk beforehand, had brought both men’s defenses up in the worst way.

Sam pushed a hand back through his hair as Dean headed for the small table. “That was a little helpful. At least we know Kim had a work related tie to some of the victims.”

“That doesn’t explain the others though,” Dean muttered. He reached for the pile of papers on the table, pulling out Urd’s list. “You heard Rogers, one or two of them had polices there. That doesn’t clear the others on the list.”

Sam loosened his tie, shrugging out of his jacket. “The woman is using the Fates to murder people. I’m sure her reasons are her own.”

With a shake of his head, Dean tossed the list of names back on the table before taking a seat. “Where is Urd anyway?”

“She said she was going to find her sisters while we questioned Kim’s employer,” Sam replied, putting his feet up. “Didn’t say exactly why.”

Dean stretched and leaned back in his chair. “I say we order a pizza and figure out our next move.”

Sam nodded at the idea and settled back against the couch. He wasn’t really sure what their next step was since they seemed to have hit yet another dead end on Kim’s connection to the bulk of her victims. If anything, their next step would more than likely be to do more digging.

Dean pushed himself up from his seat, feeling his neck pop as he reached for his phone. “Pizza it is then.”

Sam relaxed and stretched out on the couch, glancing briefly toward the window at the sudden sound of wings against the glass.

With as close to the woods as this motel was, the sound of wings outside wasn’t that odd. In their time here, both men had seen their fair share of birds hanging around the parking lot. A few had even struck the various windows around the place, either because they couldn’t see the glass or the reflections had played tricks with their eyes. It wasn’t until the doorknob jiggled that either man realized it hadn’t been simply a normal bird at the glass.

Urd pushed the door open and quickly stepped in, giving both men an odd look as she shut it behind her. She looked a little winded pushing her hair from her face and moving further into the room. Her eyes moved from one man to the other then back while she regained some semblance of composure. “Good you’re both here.”

“We were just about to order a pizza and figure out our next move,” Dean commented, holding his phone up. “Care to join us?”

Urd’s brow knit as she shook her head. “Um, thanks but not really hungry right now.”

Dean watched her cautiously for a moment before glancing toward his brother.

Sam sat forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees before he got to his feet. “Did you find your sisters?”

“Oh yeah. Nice family reunion.” Urd reached into her pocket and fished out the photo she had been carrying, tossing it on the table. “We’ve got a problem.”

The uneasy feeling that had gnawed at both men was suddenly replaced by a sense of dread. It flashed across their faces at the sight of the paper in the woman’s hands and clouded their expressions as they stared at the glossy image laid out on the table. The way that emotion reflected in their eyes when they looked her way made the goddess pause.

“You can’t be serious,” Sam mumbled, staring at the photograph.

“Welcome to the hit list, boys,” Urd said evenly.

Dean picked the photo up to get a better look, smirking as he flipped it around to the pair. “At least she got my good side.”

An unamused look washed over Sam’s face, shooting a glare toward the older man. “Dean.”

“This is one time you don’t want your good side in a picture,” Urd commented evenly.

Sam shook his head and his attention turned to the woman standing with them. “That explains where Kim disappeared to.”

“Yeah. She was putting out a hit on us.” Dean tossed the picture back on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “We weren’t even there two minutes and she vanished.”

Urd grabbed one of the chairs and had a seat, sighing as she rested her arm on the table. “She summoned us at the grain elevator. We were only a couple buildings away when she put this hit out.”

Dean glanced toward the photo once more before he stalked off across the living room. 

Urd remained silent as the older man walked the length of the room. The news hadn’t helped the situation at all, a fact she knew well enough. He was probably running through options just as she had done and coming up with very few answers. The way he paced the floor was proof of that.

“So what she pulled out of her desk was what she needed to summon you three,” Sam mumbled.

Her eyes shifted from Dean to Sam for the briefest moment, taking an even breath. “You saw her grab something?”

Sam nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “From her desk before she took off. Not sure what it was though.”

“Well, that explains why my sisters and I can’t find the book that bitch uses. She’s carrying it with her,” Urd commented.

Dean let out a frustrated huff and stopped his pacing, turning to the pair at the table. “So not only do we have to deal with freeing you, we now have a deadline?”

Urd shook her head, slowly getting to her feet. “Not exactly.”

The brothers exchanged a quizzical glance as Urd stood and picked the photo up.

“She wants us to get rid of the two agents snooping too much.” She looked at the picture for a moment before a smile pulled at her lips. “Agents May and Mercury respectively.” Her eyes shifted from the image as she tossed the thin rectangle at Dean’s chest. “She didn’t say Dean and Sam Winchester.”

A stunned silence hung in the air as both men stared at the blonde in disbelief.

“So while we have a picture to go by, the names are wrong making her “order” worthless.” Urd brushed her hands off with a less than enthusiastic shrug. “Call it a loophole.”

Confusion was still on Dean’s face, leveling a finger at the goddess. “But you could just go right after us.”

“You’re helping us, Dean. There is no reason to kill you and, honestly, I don’t want to.” Urd turned to look at both men as she spoke, resting her hands on her hips. “It doesn’t make sense to kill you. You may be a thorn in her side but not in ours.”

Sam glanced toward the photo in Dean’s hand before he turned his attention to Urd. “She’s going to want a body though.”

“Yes she is,” Urd nodded, pursing her lips as she rocked on her heels. “So my sisters and I are going to keep up appearances and kill you both. In a manner of speaking.”

“Oh this sounds interesting,” Dean muttered.

Urd shot him an annoyed look before continuing. “Your FBI names are her target and she’ll get suspicious if you’re still wandering around town when we were supposed to have killed you. So we’re going to fake your deaths.”

The two said nothing but it was obvious they were considering her plan by their expressions.

“I have Verdandi and Skuld thinking up accidents. We’d still have some details to work out but faking your deaths would get Kim’s attention off you,” she explained.

Dean held up a hand as his expression darkened. “Hold on a minute.”

“What?” She turned to the man innocently, a hand on her hip. She had been rather nonchalant with the way she described her idea; acting as if it was just another normal part of being a Fate. It was now the same tone she took addressing Dean. “What has your boxers in a twist about all this?”

“You have Verdandi and Skuld coming up with ways to fake our deaths?” Dean approached the young woman calmly, looking her in the eyes. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Would you rather deal with the alternative?” she questioned.

“No.” Dean snapped. “But Verdandi?”

The young woman shook her head with a huff. “Yeah. And?”

Dean’s meeting with the dark-haired goddess was still fresh in his mind. Her parting words to him still buzzed around his brain along with the not so subtle way she had explained their roles as more threat than anything. It wasn’t the most comforting thing in the world to know that same woman was now coming up with ways to fake his death.

“She does know it’s a fake death, right?” he questioned.

“No, Dean. Before I left I gave them orders to come up with an accident that would make your head pop off,” Urd answered sarcastically. She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “She knows not to kill you. Both of them know.”

His eyes narrowed and he stared her down for a moment before turning toward the couch. “I still don’t like how this sounds.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve got fate on your side,” Urd said evenly. She glanced toward Sam, giving a little shrug. “Literally.”


	20. Chapter 20

Compared to the other jobs that the trio had dealt with, faking a death was more complicated. It wasn't as easy as just showing up, pulling a couple strings and being done with it. And making the fake death believable was even more challenging.

It was one thing to throw out the idea of being hit by a vehicle but plotting it out was the hard part. Human bodies were, in all honesty, fragile. There was a fine line between a human being able to walk away from an accident injured and being left a bloody smear on the pavement. The person couldn't exactly come out unharmed or else people would wonder. But at the same time they also couldn't be on the receiving end of a feeding tube when the smoke cleared. A happy medium had to be found between the two extremes or the plan wouldn't work.

Urd sighed as she sat back on the old couch, her eyes moving across the room.

An abandoned house wasn't the best hideout for the sisters but it was better than nothing. True it wasn't the motel but planning out Sam and Dean's demise in front of them just didn't seem right. Hearing in detail how the Fates were going to kill them would have made the young men uneasy with all three. It was also best if they didn't know exactly what the three had in mind. The house gave the women a chance to plan in private without ultimately freaking out their intended targets.

Her gaze moved from the surroundings to a temporarily red-headed Skuld standing at a beat up table, a map of the town in front of her and a black marker in her hand.

They had been holed up on the forgotten property for two days, each one working out parts of the plan to get the young men off Kim's list.

“You figure out the best place for witnesses yet?”

“Corner of Main and State, right in front of the coffee house.” Skuld circled the location on the map with a deliberate nod, capping her pen. “More than enough people at any given time to start the gossip mill going.”

Urd got up from her seat to join her sister, looking at the map. “The more people, the better. We’re only going to get one shot at this and we gotta make it good.”

Skuld tucked the marker behind her ear, tracing a finger along the street’s path. “It’s a straight shot through downtown. Everyone will be talking about this.”

Urd looked over the map with a nod. “Straight shot, huh? Verdandi is going to like that.”

The younger woman pursed her lips and straightened, rubbing at her neck. “I worry about her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Urd examined the street layout, glancing up as the woman began to pace. “But it’s not like she doesn’t get the job done.”

Skuld huffed and began to pace the length of the room. “Are you sure this will work?”

The blonde straightened at her sister’s question, following the younger woman’s walk across the floor.

“I mean they’re helping us. And the whole being hit by a car thing hurts.” Skuld sounded like she was weighing the plan out to herself more than asking Urd a question. “And humans are fragile things. One good hit and the squishy parts can rupture.”

Urd let out a heavy sigh, resting her hands on the map covered table. “Skuld.”

“And Verdandi is unstable. Who’s to say she’ll stick to the plan? I mean the whole thing with the car and everything else she could just go off on her own,” Skuld mused.

“Skuld.” Urd brought a hand to her forehead to try stopping the approaching headache forming behind her eyes as she barked her sister’s name. “Stop.”

Skuld froze and cast an innocent look toward Urd.

“We’ve been through this. Kim wants them dead and if we kill them then we don’t get out of here.” Urd motioned to the map in front of her. “All this planning is for a reason.”

Skuld’s eyes moved to the mess of papers on the couch before going back to her elder sibling.

“Verdandi knows what’s at stake and she won’t go off on her own. Between the three of us, we have enough medical knowledge to deal with the “squishy parts” thing.” Urd turned and rested her hand against the table edge carefully. “This plan will work. Now stop worrying.”

“But how are we going to “kill” them without really killing them?” Skuld questioned carefully. “Especially in front of a bunch of human gawkers?”

The blonde once more turned her attention back to the map. “Verdandi is getting something for that.”

Skuld casually strolled back to the table and stood across from Urd, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know they’re going to be hurting after this, right?”

“I know. Planned on that part too,” Urd replied calmly.

Skuld nodded thoughtfully for a moment and pursed her lips, rocking on the balls of her feet. “Do they know?”

“About the plan?” Urd glanced up with a sigh and stepped away from the table. “They know we’re faking their deaths but they don’t know the specifics. And I don’t plan on telling them the specifics so they don’t freak out.”

The younger woman said nothing at the answer, bringing a hand up to scratch at her newly dyed hair.

“Because if they know what’s coming, they will hesitate. That doesn’t make an accident very believable when they know what’s coming,” Urd informed calmly.

“Good point,” Skuld mumbled.

“I tend to make them once in a while.” The blonde made her way back to the sofa and sat down on the arm. “So stop worrying, stop trying to pick apart everything and just go with it. You’re going to give me a nervous condition if you keep this up.”

The younger woman pouted slightly and huffed as she pointed toward the room’s window. “Where’s Verdandi anyway? Shouldn’t she be helping with this?”

“Like I said, Verdandi is out getting a few things for the plan.” Urd brushed her hand along the leg of her jeans absently, letting out a heavy sigh. “Besides, she’s more suited to the hands on part of this.”

Skuld appeared uneasy as she wandered out of the room and headed toward the home’s second level. “Oh no. That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

Urd’s shoulders sank as her sister disappeared into the hallway beyond, bringing a hand to her face. She was going to be glad when this was over and they could each go their separate ways. As much as she loved her siblings they were beginning to wear on her. Another month of this and she’s end up burying the pair.

The sound of footsteps on the decaying wooden porch pulled the blonde from her border-line homicidal thoughts and back to the present.

It wasn’t hard to place the owner of footsteps that crossed the porch. No one outside the trio knew the house was their hideout, the weather worn building sitting far enough back on the property to afford them more than enough privacy. Not even the brothers knew about the out of the way place they had found. So hearing the steps crossing the porch did little to raise the blonde’s curiosity.

The front door’s handle rattled briefly before it swung open for the black haired woman with a loud creek.

“I’m home, my fellow miscreants.” Verdandi stepped across the doorway and tossed an oversized black gym bag in front of her with a heavy thud before kicking the door shut. “And I bring questionable gifts.”

Urd pushed herself up from the couch arm and made her way to the living room’s arched entry. She examined the innocuous looking bag as she leaned against the wooden frame casually. “That was a long time for such a small bag.”

“Sit and spin, sister,” Verdandi shot back with a quick flip of her middle finger. “Sit and spin.”

Urd rolled her eyes at the comment but said nothing.

“Next time you can be the one going on the scavenger hunt.” The black haired woman gave her sister a dirty look and snatched up the gym bag, moving past the blonde to the living room. “I’ll stay holed up in some crap farmhouse and plot.”

Urd quickly glanced over her shoulder at Skuld coming down the stairway behind her as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re more suited for the scavenger hunts. We all know it.”

“Plus you’re kinda scary when you start planning things,” Skuld added cautiously from beside Urd.

The bag rattled the map covered table Verdandi set it on before she turned on her heel to face the pair. “It wasn’t an easy list, by the way.”

The blonde’s eyes followed Verdandi across the living room, her back resting squarely against the doorway. “Well what did you expect? Go get milk, eggs and flour? We’re faking deaths, not baking a cake.”

“I’m just saying it wasn’t exactly easy,” Verdandi commented evenly.

Skuld and Urd moved to the table; the clicking of the bag’s zipper cutting through the air for a brief moment.

The first thing that came into view was the blue of an EMT shirt bundled up against the dark canvas. Piece by piece the bag was unstuffed until little was left but the empty shell surrounded by a mass of clothes and various other items. It was an impressive haul for a mornings work.

“I got everything on the list,” Verdandi explained, beginning to sort through the mess. She paused to pull a crumpled scrap of paper from her back pocket and gave it a quick read. “Well, almost everything.”

Skuld looked over the mess covering the table before reaching for one of the EMT shirts. “How did you get these?”

“Don’t ask,” the black-haired woman mumbled. She cocked her head and examined her sister for a moment before blinking back surprise. “Nice hair.”

Urd examined the objects before casting her gaze on the woman. “How many charges?”

“Five, maybe six,” Verdandi replied calmly.

The color drained from Skuld’s face at the answer.

“That sounds about right.” The blonde stepped away from the table and moved back to her papers. “Especially for you.”

Skuld dropped the shirt in her hands almost as if it burned her. “Since when does faking a death involve charges?”

“”Since now,” Urd mumbled, picking through her papers.

Verdandi paused while she pulled apart a bundle of black and red clothing in front of her and looked at the younger woman. “If it gets the hunters off the list then what are a couple possible felonies? Ain’t like we’re gonna get caught.”

“Felonies? What the hell did you do?” Skuld sputtered in shock.

“Breaking and entering and theft for these,” Verdandi replied, resting her hands on the bundle she worked to untangle. She swept her arm over the EMT uniforms in front of Skuld as if presenting a work of art. “Misuse of 911, assault and kidnapping for those.” She paused to push her hair back and leveled a finger at the odd looking black box in the center of the items. “And that is grand theft auto.”

A quizzical expression crossed the younger woman’s face at the sight of the box in the center of the mess. “What’s that thing?”

“The lojack from the ambulance outside,” Verdandi commented.

Skuld made a choking sound and backed away from the table.

“Oh please. It ain’t easy faking anything without props and costumes anymore.” Verdandi rolled her eyes at the reaction before turning her attention to Urd. “The crew is unconscious in the back so we’ll have to move them out. Plus there’s more supplies inside we can clean out before we drop it.”

The blonde took a quick look out the window at the ambulance in the over-grown yard before making her way back to the loot laden table. “Good. We’re gonna need them.”

“Why am I the only one having a problem with all this?” Skuld questioned absently.

A wicked look danced across Verdandi’s eyes and she gave the woman an innocent smile. “Maybe because you’re a prude, Red?”

The strawberry -haired woman’s eyes grew cold, turning away from her sister before her temper got the best of her.

“Knock it off.” Urd sounded more like a parent scolding the pair than a sibling. “Can you two focus on the plan? You can butt heads later.”

“It’s her fault,” Skuld pouted.

“Enough.” Urd glared at the two disapprovingly and shoved a piece of paper at Verdandi. “Here.”

Verdandi’s brow knit and she looked at the scrap. “What’s this? Another list?”

“Location and speed,” the blonde replied evenly.

A smile pulled at the black-haired woman’s lips that made Urd a little uneasy. “And I thought this would be hard.”

“No faster or we risk serious complications,” Urd warned.

Verdandi’s answer was a small nod while she studied the paper in her hand.

“Won’t someone know that monster outside is missing? I mean it’s not exactly inconspicuous.” Skuld stared out the window at the “borrowed” ambulance as though transfixed, her head cocked slightly. “And what if the crew wakes up?”

Verdandi shook her head dismissively, looking up from the paper in her hands. “When I knock someone out, they stay out. Plus we can give each a little sedative before we take off.”

“And the ambulance?” Urd pressed.

“It’s a private company but that doesn’t mean they won’t be looking for it. The last call they made to their base was about picking me up.” Verdandi gave a small shrug and crossed her arms over her chest. “If we fake a call in, we may get a little extra time. But not much.”

Urd pursed her lips for a moment and looked over the items on the table. “No call in.”

“Then we have an hour, hour and a half tops,” Verdandi informed.

Urd grabbed one of the uniforms from the table and tossed it at Skuld. “Okay then. Skuld, you familiarize yourself with the ambulance while Verdandi and I move the crew. I’ll give the boys a call once we’re ready to lure them into place.”

“I’m driving that thing?” Skuld asked pathetically, motioning out the window.

“You’re the only one, dipshit. Urd has to be at the scene and I have a redneck to fetch.” Verdandi pulled a small black tank top from one of the piles in front of her, leveling a finger at her younger sister. “That leaves you.”

“It won’t be hard so stop stressing about it,” Urd said evenly. She motioned to the uniform in the young woman’s hands briefly before waving her out of the room. “And go get changed. We have to look like EMT’s doing this.”

Skuld stalked off with her uniform while Urd gathered her own uniform from the mess on the table. “I hate you both.”

“We know,” Verdandi called after her, stripping out of the white tee she wore. She pulled the black cotton over her head and tugged the low-cut top down before kicking off her shoes and stripping out of her jeans. “So we turn the upstairs of this spacious ruin into a hospital until the hunter boys mend. What do we do while we wait? Sit and stare at them?”

“No. You and I have a little cleanup to do, so to speak,” Urd answered. She paused to watch Verdandi slip into a pair of black leather pants that looked even tighter then her tank top. “Where did you find those?”

“In the closet of a high school cheerleader.” Verdandi smiled almost blissfully while her hands traced out her leather highlighted curves. “I don’t think mommy and daddy know their little girl likes leather over lace.”

Urd looked a little uncomfortable when her sister let out an almost erotic sounding moan. “Verdandi?”

“And look what else I found!” Verdandi’s hand shot out to snatch a pair of knee high black boots with three-inch heels and a red leather corset from her pile of clothes, the buckles on each item rattling when she held them up. “The perfect pair of boots and an under bust corset.” She held the items triumphantly, an adoring look in her eyes. “I love when good girls find bondage.”

The blonde pursed her lips and watched Verdandi hug the leather close to her chest, clearing her throat. “Officially creeped out now.”

“I’m keeping these,” Verdandi purred happily. She held the boots and corset out with an approving nod before skipping from the room. “I’m keeping the whole outfit.”

Urd stared blankly at the retreating woman for a moment before shaking off the confusion. “Who did I piss off to be stuck with these two?”

~*~

“So this is what impending doom is like,” Dean mumbled from across the café table.

Sam looked up from the small notepad, his brow knitting. “Dean.”

The two had been sitting at the coffeehouse for the past twenty minutes since Urd’s call, having lunch while they waited for another.

The instructions had been simple and a little unnerving. Dressed as federal agents they were to head into town. She had been oddly specific about the car being parked out of sight and the walking past Kim’s work before heading to the coffeehouse. She wouldn’t go into any more detail when they asked, which was unsettling, but had told them to get some lunch and she’d call them back once everything was ready.

So, no matter how ominous it felt, they had done as she said. After parking the Impala a couple streets over they had walked back toward Main, making a point of walking past Kim’s workplace a little slower than usual. Once past, their pace returned to normal and they continued on to the coffeehouse as instructed.

Dean took a drink of the coffee in front of him and motioned to the surroundings. “I’m just saying that I always thought imminent death would involve more terror, ya know. Not sitting in a café with a coffee and sandwich.”

“You can’t seriously be complaining about our not “dying” yet, are you?” Sam questioned, putting the notebook inside his pocket.

“No.” Dean shook his head and looked down at his half eaten sandwich. “I’m all for being able to move under my own power for as long as I can without the use of a gurney.”

Sam sighed and took a bite of his salad before reaching for a napkin. “But?”

“I’m not too big on Fate’s “hurry up and wait” approach,” Dean admitted.

“Would you rather they just kill us and get it over with?” Sam questioned under his breath. He wiped his hands absently on the paper napkin and locked eyes with his brother. “Because, personally, I’d rather give them the time to plan things out so we don’t really end up dead.”

Dean picked at the pile of chips beside the “house special” Italian sandwich for a moment before popping one in his mouth. “It can’t be that hard planning all this out.”

Sam sat back; pushing what little remained of his salad away. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Dean.”

The older man looked across the table toward his brother, crunching another chip in his mouth.

“I mean think about it. These three pretty much control how events play out. They’ve literally shaped world history.” Sam rested his elbows on the table while Dean continued to eat. “They’re used to killing people, not faking it. I’m sure ending up with two bodies with a pulse is harder than ending up with two bloody smears on the pavement.”

Dean shrugged and thought for a moment, finishing off the coffee in his cup. “Good point.”

“So I’m more than happy having to wait.” Sam’s mouth arched into a grin while he watched Dean finish his lunch. “And it gives you a chance to visit your admirer.”

Dean scowled at the comment, his voice lowering. “Very funny.”

The sour expression on his brother’s face made Sam’s grin widen and pulled a chuckle from him.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this,” Dean hissed.

The phone in his pocket became a welcomed distraction from Dean’s glare, Sam’s hand wrapping around the chirping device in his pocket. The number that flashed across the screen wasn’t one of the usual numbers he readily recognized and probably wouldn’t have to remember once this was over. He pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear while Dean continued to glower across the table. “Hello?”

“How’s lunch?” Urd sounded so cheerful when she spoke that Sam caught himself repressing a shiver. “Relaxing?”

“Hardly.” Sam watched Dean brush the crumbs off the lapel of his jacket and shook his head. “So is this our three minute warning?”

Urd laughed over the line and, for a moment, Sam didn’t feel so on edge. “Not really. I just called to see how you two were doing while we sort a couple things out.”

Sam’s unease returned with a vengeance, the calm voice on the phone only seeming to make it worse. “What do you mean sort a couple things out?”

Dean shot his brother a questioning look at the comment but got little more than a shrug from Sam.

“It’s nothing. We’re just waiting for Verdandi to find a couple things,” she casually replied. “Being trapped makes supply runs harder.”

“Okay.” Something about the answer made the young man’s stomach flip slightly. “Anything we can help with?”

“It’s nothing we can’t handle but thanks for asking, Sam.” She paused and for a second it sounded like she had pushed herself up from a low chair. “Besides Verdandi would be offended at the help. She’s kinda stubborn that way.”

Sam’s gaze moved to the man seated across from him, clearing his throat. “I know the type.”

“Everyone with siblings knows the type. Believe me.” The young woman gave a heavy, almost annoyed, sounding sigh and Sam could just picture her glaring at one of her sisters. “But sometimes stubborn pays off.” There was a muffled sound, like she had shifted the phone, before she continued talking. “Case in point is Skuld, who has been making a habit of flying around town since the hit on you was put out. She’s been watching you.”

“Why is Skuld watching us?” Sam questioned.

Dean sat forward with a “what the hell” look firmly cemented on his face, motioning toward the phone. “Let me talk.”

The younger man swatted his brother’s hand away with a glare, turning in his chair to block any attempted grab.

“It’s not Skuld following you that you should be worried about. It’s Kim,” Urd informed.

Sam’s expression clouded and he straightened in his seat. “Wait, what?”

“Kim has been following you and watching you each time she’s seen you in town. We figure that’s her way of keeping an eye on if we do our job or not,” the young woman answered.

He turned to face Dean, keeping the phone to his ear. “So Kim is watching to make sure we die?”

“Kim is watching us?” Dean questioned. His shoulders sank when Sam replied with a nod. “Son of a bitch.”

“As far as we can tell, yes. That’s why we’re getting everything we need as fast as possible. The longer she sees you wandering around, the more suspicious she’ll get.” The line became muffled for a moment before she came back. “Right now, I need you both to do me a favor. Head to the park and the wooden play set. I’ll be watching to see if she’s following you this time.”

Sam stared blankly across the table for a second before he finally spoke. “We’ll, um, be right there then.”

“Good.” She said nothing more and the phone went silent at his ear.

Confusion sat heavy on Sam’s face while Dean watched him lower the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“I think,” Sam started, his eyes shifting to the cell phone’s darkened keys. “Urd is using us as bait.”

Dean sat forward, his head cocking slightly. “She’s what?”

“She wants us to get to the park and the wooden play set so she can see if Kim is following us,” Sam explained.

Dean gave a small nod and cleared his throat, tossing his sandwich wrapper and napkin on Sam’s tray. “Sounds a little like bait.”

The chairs squeaked against the tile floor when they stood, Sam grabbing his tray and heading for the door.

“So we’re being followed by Kim and one of the trio?” Dean paused at the door, watching Sam dump the remains of lunch unceremoniously into the trash. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable being this popular.” 

The mid-afternoon sun that met the exiting pair made them both pause until their eyes adjusted to the harsh light.

“Skuld watching us has an upside if they spotted Kim following us,” the younger man offered.

A look of confusion flashed across Dean’s face for a moment as he buttoned his jacket up. “What one is Skuld again?”

“Future,” Sam answered. “She’s got white hair.”

“Haven’t met her,” Dean muttered. He tucked his hands in his pockets and began to walk toward the crosswalk. “Why is Skuld following us anyway?”

Sam gave a shrug and fell into step beside Dean. “Urd didn’t say why, just that Skuld had been following us since Kim put the hit out.”

“I guess having one of them watching our back is better than not knowing where they are.” Dean paused at the crosswalk, pressing the signal button. “And it means they aren’t “killing” us just yet.”

“Urd figures Kim watching us is to make sure they do the job.” The comment sounded rather ominous when he said it, the younger man repressing a shiver. “That can’t be helping the sisters.”

Dean’s attention turned to their surroundings as they stood at the light. Knowing that one of the trio was watching them was both reassuring and unnerving at the same time. A part of him was glad to have the extra eyes around but he couldn’t help wondering when those extra eyes would go from spotting Kim to zeroing in on the targets on their backs.

“Did she say anything else?” he finally questioned, stepping from the curb. “Like about their plans about us?”

“Just that they were waiting on Verdandi to get a couple things,” Sam answered.

Dean quickly glanced toward his trailing brother, continuing across the street. “Wonder how long that will take.”

A deep rumble of an engine bearing down on them and a quick flash of chrome caught the two men off guard. The grill of a Dodge Ram Super Duty barreling down on them coupled with the ominous sound of breaks squealing made their blood run cold, panic making them freeze where they stood. There was no time to physically react only time to mentally brace for the violent impact of metal and flesh.

~*~

It was oddly peaceful waiting in the ambulance, much to Skuld’s surprise.

Hidden away from the road by an overgrown lilac bush on one side and shaded by the thick tangle of maple and elm branches from the trees on the other, the ambulance had become a hideout of sorts. The windows were rolled down, letting a cool breeze pass through the cab along with the songs of birds. The only other noises came from the radio that would crackle to life on occasion, the random mix of voices becoming white noise after a while.

Skuld had gotten into the habit of half-listening to the calls coming over the radio after a couple minutes, paying more attention to the almost plot of the paperback romance she had brought along. The radio would let lose a string of static and voices and her gaze would move to the offending box for a moment before returning to the yellowed pages in her hands. After five minutes though she had all but tuned the crackling voices out. 

The young woman rolled her eyes at the book’s attempt at a love scene, tossing the paperback into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh. “No wonder they left it behind.”

She stretched and shifted in her seat, her arm resting on the door as she scratched her head and looked out the window absently. She was beginning to wonder what was taking her sisters so long in town the more time passed. It couldn’t have been that hard to run someone down in public especially when it’s planned out as well as they had done. All Verdandi had to do was aim a truck at the boys and that was pretty much it. 

The radio crackled briefly then fell silent, Skuld paying no attention as she rolled her shoulders with a pop. Her head fell back against the seat’s headrest while her eyes moved to the vehicle’s side mirror and the pale strawberry blonde who stared back. A quick shake of her head and a heavy sigh was all the reflection received before she turned her attention to the view beyond the windshield.

She definitely looked the part of an EMT in uniform. The hair color may have been a drastic change for her but it did make her blend in. At least Kim wouldn’t be able to pick her out when everything finally happened in town.

The young woman yawned, pressing back against her seat and stretching her legs.

Bored, at this point, was an understatement. With her interest in her book all but gone and the only noise coming from the static laced radio chatter, waiting was getting a little tedious. She wasn’t wishing any ill will on the Winchesters but she just wished her sisters would get on with it.

Skuld settled back against the seat, closing her eyes and relaxing. “I should just take a nap at this rate.”

The idea of a nap was cut short by the sound of large wings passing over the ambulance cab, the radio coming to life with calls for assistance from the local police. The waiting woman’s eyes snapped open in time to see the flash of black and gold feathers dart past the windshield and change, Urd and Verdandi dropping down in front of the vehicle. A turn of the key and the engine came to life while the pair ran toward it.

Urd and Verdandi looked a little mismatched running toward the ambulance, Skuld raising an eyebrow. She couldn’t recall seeing Verdandi’s choice of wardrobe at the house except for the colors black and red. Seeing the woman’s risqué outfit now, though not entirely shocking given the wearer, did make Urd’s uniform seem mundane. But considering Verdandi’s style, “leather hooker” seemed fitting.

Urd was the first to reach the vehicle, throwing open the passenger door and jumping inside. She shifted in her seat for a moment and pulled Skuld’s book out from under her, her brow knitting slightly when she examined the cover. A quick glance toward the woman and a raised eyebrow was her only acknowledgement to her sister before settling back into the seat.

“I was beginning to think you two got lost,” Skuld stated evenly.

“We had a slight,” Urd combed her fingers through her hair, braiding the blonde tresses as she chose her words. “delay on Verdandi’s end.”

Both women turned and looked back at the rear doors, the leather clad woman who flung them open letting out an annoyed growl. “Not my fault rednecks aren’t punctual.”

Skuld pursed her lips, cringing when the doors were slammed shut.

“Any other day Goober is right on time with that damned backwoods monstrosity he calls a truck. But the one day I need his hillbilly ass, he’s nowhere to be found.” Verdandi practically hissed reaching for a bundle of clothes stashed in a nearby cupboard. “I’m glad that little shit is losing his truck.”

Urd tossed her finished braid over her shoulder before sitting back in her seat with a huff. “She’s been like this since she got out of that truck.”

“I won’t ask about the whole dominatrix thing she’s got going on then,” Skuld mumbled.

Verdandi shot her sisters a cold glare while she loosened the buckles on her corset. “Shut up.”

Skuld spun back to face the steering wheel, running her fingers along the leather covering. “Damn she’s grouchy.”

Urd shook her head as Verdandi continued complaining from the back of the ambulance, drumming her fingers against the door. “You know she’s not gonna stop bitching anytime soon, right?”

“Well yeah.” The ambulance bounced when Skuld pulled out from the shelter of leaves and branches, a new round of complaints coming from the back. “I don’t think she’s happy unless she’s complaining about something.”

“I heard that,” Verdandi shouted from the rear compartment.

The pair in the cab exchanged a look before Skuld flicked the siren on, the red-head taking an even breath. “This family is just so loving.”

~*~

A crowd had gathered just as they tended to do, drawn by misfortune and chaos.

The curious and concerned stood with craning necks watching the police and then the arriving ambulance crew work on the two prone figures. The police on the scene took witness statements while worried murmurs and speculation about their survival mixed with comments about the young man who ran the pair over. All of it was becoming a common occurrence in the sleepy little town but none of it mattered to the woman situated discreetly at the back of the group. 

Kim watched the scene quietly, feigning concern but caring very little. Her only interest was the men on the ground and the outcome of it all. While she could easily fake an “Oh dear. I hope they’re okay” for the benefit of those assembled, her internal thoughts were much darker. When it came to the two FBI agents anything short of dead wasn’t good enough.

She couldn’t hide her smile when the men were loaded into the ambulance and the vehicle drove off. There was no urgency as it pulled away; no flashing lights or screaming sirens to signal critical patients inside. Even when it was out of sight the sound of sirens was absent. To others the silence was an ominous sign but to Kim it was proof the Fates had done as she instructed.

She wandered away from the scene and left the gossips to their talk. She had seen enough and word would spread quickly about the accident that by the end of the day the whole town would know if they survived. Kim didn’t need to wait with the rest of the town to know the real outcome though; the men may have been alive at the scene but they wouldn’t be alive for long. With the Fates around, none of the names Kim gave them ever lived very long.

~*~

Urd watched the town grow small in the side mirror, waiting until it was well out of sight before finally relaxing. 

The ambulance and uniforms had been all access passes for the trio, the police on the scene stepping aside for them to work. With the crowd kept back and their heads kept down, anonymity was a given. Even with Kim watching, and they knew she was there, they could grab the boys and go.

She pulled her hat off and glanced toward the back of the vehicle.

Sam and Dean occupied most of the compartment, the gurney and backboard leaving very little room for Verdandi to maneuver between them. Dean was secured to the backboard resting on the ambulance bench, the straps and neck brace keeping him motionless. Beside him Sam was strapped to the gurney with an orange head immobilizer keeping him in place. Both men looked like they had been dragged through hell but they were alive which was important.

“How are they?” Urd inquired, dropping her hat on the floor.

Verdandi examined Dean before she answered, adjusting his oxygen mask. “They look worse than road kill but they’re doing fine.” She turned and checked on Sam before looking at her sister. “The pain meds are working and they’re asleep.”

“That’s probably a good thing considering,” Skuld admitted.

Verdandi picked her way to the attendant’s chair near Sam’s head and had a seat. “They’re gonna hurt when the painkillers wear off. Dean looks like he’s got some road rash and Sam is gonna be a walking bruise.”

Urd unbuttoned the collar of her shirt. “We’ll take them back to the house, clean and bandage them, then start to pick up the loose ends.”

“First, we get rid of the ambulance and crew.” Verdandi sat back and watched the men sleep, resting a foot on Sam’s gurney. “They should be actively looking for it by now. Hundred thousand dollar piece of equipment goes missing, after a while they start looking.”

The ambulance slowed and turned, gravel crunching under the tires.

“We’ll deal with the boys while you take care of it.” Urd combed her braid out with her fingers, watching the scenery pass by outside. “That way you don’t have to play nurse.”

Verdandi rested her head against the seat with a shrug, unbuttoning her uniform shirt. “Fine by me. I’m not cut out to be a nurse anyway.”

“We know,” Skuld remarked evenly. A sidelong glance toward Urd got a small snort of amusement from the blonde. “We both remember Paris.”

The annoyed huff from the back made the pair in the cab shake their heads. “I wouldn’t have punched that egotistical jackass if he hadn’t grabbed my ass like he owned it.”

Urd turned in her seat to look at her sibling. “That’s why you get to deal with getting rid of this thing.”

The black haired woman shrugged out of the uniform shirt and tossed it on the floor, straightening the black tank beneath. “I’ll be so damn glad to get out of this stupid uniform.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. We still have to get the car and clear out the motel room,” Urd advised.

A smile tugged at the corners of Verdandi’s mouth and she let out a seductive sounding purr. “The car.”

Skuld pursed her lips and watched the road ahead. “Well that sounded vaguely disturbing.”

Disturbing wasn’t the word Urd would have chosen but it fit. After hearing about Dean’s run in with Verdandi and how she acted, the purr was more of a warning to the older woman. Verdandi was up to something involving the Winchester’s car and she knew it.

She glanced back at the black-haired woman, her eyes narrowing. “Hand them over.”

“Hand what over?” Verdandi questioned, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

The blonde extended a hand but said nothing.

For a moment Verdandi simply stared at the outstretched hand defiantly. When the silent treatment did little to get her sister’s hand pulled back, she let out a growl of frustration. Her hand disappeared in a pocket of the uniform pants and returned with a set of keys, slapping them into the waiting palm.

“Thank you.” Urd pocketed the keys, ignoring the cold glare leveled at her. “And I’m sure Dean thanks you too.”

“It’s not like he’s using them,” Verdandi grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.


	21. Chapter 21

Dean began to wake slowly and almost instantly regretted it.

He hurt. And it wasn’t just any kind of hurt; this was a steady pain that made every last nerve practically scream just from taking a breath. It simply wasn’t a matter of one place hurting more than another, everything hurt equally. The slightest move, even a twitch of his pinky, sent a searing pain through his body.  
It took a couple minutes before he attempted to open his eyes and look around.

His vision was blurry at first before finally focusing on the red-head sitting on the edge of his bed carefully checking his bandages. He blinked, watching the woman smooth down the gauze before letting his eyes scan the room. It took a moment for the fog to lift enough for his brain to finally start working correctly.  
The first thought that had managed to pop into his pain clouded head had been that the trio’s plan had landed them in a hospital. That idea had started to quickly fall apart as he took a closer look at his surroundings.

The room he was in was a far cry from any hospital he had been in. The white paint that coated the walls was cracking with age, large flakes of the stuff hugging the base boards. An almost tea-colored water stain occupied a spot near the far corner, the stain beginning its slow spread toward the center of the ceiling. Even the windows had seen better days, the glass panes showing their age by the handful of cracks that peppered them.

His attention returned to the red-head who was watching him process his surroundings.

“I wondered when the drugs would wear off and you’d wake up.” She gave the young man a smile, slowly getting to her feet. “How do you feel, Dean?”

Dean bit back the urge to yell out when he tried to move, managing to only lift his head and shoulders from the pillow. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

“Good to see your sarcasm survived intact.” She walked to the end of the bed, glancing over her shoulder at the man. “I’d just relax if I were you. You aren’t in any condition to do much else for now.”

The pain that shot along his back made Dean’s breath catch and ended his attempt to sit up. “Son of a bitch.”

“Told you.”

Dean closed his eyes and let out a tense breath.

“Let me get you something to help.” She returned to his side with a vile and syringe, having a seat on the bed. “We’ll give this a minute to kick in then sit you up.”

He eyed the way she handled the medication and needle with ease before taking hold of his arm. She seemed to have more than a passing familiarity with anything medical, finding a vein quickly. Her fingers traced along his arm, following the path of the vein to just below his elbow before administering the shot and capping the used needle. There was no hesitation on her part at all.

“You a nurse?” Dean saw a grin paint her features while she capped the syringe. “Or just really handy with a first aid kit?”

“I was a nurse a few times. Back when the Plague showed up in San Francisco, Paris during the flu pandemic, Gettysburg and a couple other places here and there.” Her eyes moved from the syringe to Dean, tucking the medication vile in her pocket. “But today I’m an event planner in L.A.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the woman’s answer. “An event planner?”

She shrugged and stood, grabbing an EMT kit from the foot of his bed. “We change professions every few decades.”

The pain began to ebb and Dean could finally take a deep breath without wincing too badly. It was still there though as an annoying ache that crept along his back and settled around his shoulders. It almost felt like he had been in a bar fight and not hit by a truck the way the drugs were working.

She looked back at Dean before turning to the second bed in the room. “You two took one hell of a beating. I’m honestly impressed. I do feel sorry for you but I’m impressed.”  
Dean relaxed against the pillow and let his eyes follow her. “Good to know.”

He couldn’t remember meeting this sister. It was easy to tell by the way she acted that this was the final triplet, the red-head seeming more reserved than the others. But while he knew this was the last Fate, his drug addled brain couldn’t remember her name.

She took a seat on the edge of the second bed where Sam lay, setting the EMT kit at her feet. “You’re more resilient than I expected, which is a good thing.”

“So which one are you?” Dean’s voice faltered briefly when he twisted on the bed and a jolt of pain spread across his back. “And where are we?”

“I’m Skuld.” Her attention was on Sam, lifting the white sheet that covered him to check a large bruise occupying his side. “And we are currently in an abandoned house that Verdandi found as a hideout.”

Dean cringed at the sight of Sam’s chest and the ugly purple that was beginning to darken the skin.

The “accident” was little more than a blur of images in Dean’s memory; the last solid image he could pick out of the jumble being a momentary glimpse of chrome. From the time he and Sam were walking across Main until waking up with an event planner turned nurse taking care of them, his memory was little more than a handful of vague images and sounds. Looking at the bruises on Sam though and feeling his own aches and pains, he was almost glad he had no real recollection of what happened.

Sam groaned and started to wake up while Skuld examined his chest, the young woman sitting back when he opened his eyes.

“Sammy?” Dean watched the way Sam cringed when he moved on the bed, the action of moving his arm making his brother’s expression darken. “You okay?”

Skuld grabbed a new needle from the kit at her feet and the medicine vile from her pocket, measuring out a dose and quickly administering it. “Give him a couple minutes.”

Sam visibly relaxed as she capped the needle and dropped it into a pocket of the EMT kit.

“Scold?” Dean mumbled.

“Skuld. Pronounced “schooled” but spelled differently.” She carefully ran a hand along Sam’s arm and the bandage on his bicep. “But you can call me Future if that’s easier.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and entertained the idea of trying to sit up on his own but decided against it. “So you’re the youngest?”

Skuld nodded and got to her feet. “A fact Verdandi loves abusing now and then but yes.” She pushed a lock of red behind her ear, making her way toward a table beneath one of the windows. “Even gods pick on younger siblings.”

Sam raised his head off his pillow just enough to look around, letting out a heavy sigh. “What’s going on?”

Skuld looked over her shoulder toward the beds, her voice kind. “Just getting you two patched up, Sam.”

Confusion crossed Sam’s face when she spoke, watching her turn around. “Skuld?”

“Guilty,” she responded.

Sam continued to examine her for a moment before putting his head back down on the pillow. “This is a painful plan.”

“Sorry about that,” she sighed.

“If you’re Future, shouldn’t you have white hair?” Dean inquired, motioning toward his brother’s bed. “Sam said you had white hair.”

The laugh she let out when she made her way back to Dean’s bed bordered on a snort. “Usually. But a white haired, under 50 EMT sticks out so Urd had me dye it with some temporary hair color. Not exactly how I change it normally but oh well. We make due.” She took hold of his right hand and carefully slipped her left arm under his shoulders. “Let’s sit you up so I can change your tape.”

The groan that left Dean was more discomfort than pain, a sure sign the painkiller had a good hold on the man. “My tape?”

“On your bandages.” Skuld slowly eased him up, keeping him steady. “Regardless of us pumping you full of drugs, once you got deep enough under, you started to toss in your sleep a little. Almost looked like you were fighting.”

Dean felt a sudden draft against his chest when she sat him up, looking down at his torso when she helped swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He hadn’t noticed his absent shirt when he came to or even felt Skuld’s arm against his back. In his current state he hadn’t registered much outside the pain. But now with the blanket that had been covering him pooled in his lap, the lack of a shirt had become obvious.

She straightened and caught the odd expression that crossed his face. “What?”

“I know I had more clothes when we left the motel,” he muttered.

“That was before you got hit by a truck.” Skuld watched Dean sway for a second then walked around to the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry; I didn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

A quick peek under the blanket in his lap made Dean sigh heavily. He had been stripped down to his boxer briefs while he was out, his left leg wrapped in a layer of gauze above his knee. “Where are my clothes?”

Her touch against his back was gentle, the sound of first aid tape leaving its spool echoing around the scarcely furnished room. “Your suits, or at least what’s left of them, are at the ends of your beds. Just a little FYI though, you may want to buy new ones when you get a chance.”

“What’s left of them?” He shook his head and closed his eyes when he felt the woman pull a piece of tape from his skin. “That sounds comforting.”

“They had to make it believable.” The young woman looked over the large area of gauze that covered Dean’s back and cringed. “Honestly, I think they made it look too good.”  
When Dean turned his head, he thought he heard his neck crack and felt an odd tingle branch out across his shoulders.

Skuld pursed her lips and stepped back, turning her attention to Sam’s bed. “You still with us, Sam?”

“Can I get back to you on that?” Sam moaned.

“Absolutely.” She tucked the surgical tape into her pocket, spotting Sam take a slow breath. “Are you feeling nauseous?”

Sam’s reply was a curt nod followed by an uncomfortable sounding groan.

“That’s the Morphine Sulphate. Not the most pleasant of side effects,” Skuld admitted, going to Sam’s side. “It will pass though.”

Dean carefully rolled his head and heard yet another crack. He couldn’t remember the last time his body protested like that, if at all. True he had the occasional aches after some jobs but never had any job made him literally pop when he moved.

“And that popping will stop too.” She pushed some hair behind her ear, watching Dean roll his shoulders. “Once you get moving again, it will stop.”

Dean felt a little dizzy and tired as he got a better look around the room, his head starting to swim.

The improvised hospital room occupied what looked to have been an old guest bedroom. The two twin beds they lay in sat against the far wall with a clear view of the door, the clean linens making the beds more comfortable than the motel beds had been. An abandoned dresser stood to the left of the door; its top practically buried beneath bandages, medicines and sealed packages one would see in an ambulance. The left wall held the room’s two cracked windows and a desk that held a couple bright orange field kits that usually accompanied ambulance crew. There were no signs that the room had electricity but it was lit well enough by a couple camping lanterns and a handful of candles.

Dean shifted a little and glanced over at Sam still beneath the covers. “Should I ask how bad we were hit?”

Skuld was halfway across the room when she froze at his question. The odd expression that crossed her face and her slight grimace weren’t the most reassuring reactions to the innocent question but unfortunately they had been hers. A couple deep breaths and a grin at the young man weren’t exactly going to be a quick fix for her slip.

“Skuld, how bad were we hit?” Dean questioned calmly.

“Well,” She paused and looked him over briefly before glancing at Sam. “Bad enough.”

The expression on Dean’s face was less than trustworthy, Sam raising his head slightly. “How bad is bad enough?”

Skuld chewed at the inside of her cheek as she rocked back and forth on her heels. For a minute she stayed quiet, gauging the state of each man. She didn’t feel right about giving them a technical, almost textbook sounding explanation if the drugs in their systems would just end up making them forget. But the more she saw of their limited movements, the more a technical explanation became less likely an option.

“Skuld?” Sam questioned, looking at the young woman.

“You want an honest answer?” Both men gave her a slow nod before she continued. “Bad enough that the town thinks you’re both dead.” Her attention moved from one man to the other while she spoke. “Bad enough that you were brought here on backboards and in stabilizing collars, knocked out with painkillers, in an ambulance.”

Sam took a slow breath, resting his hands cautiously on his chest. “And the driver?”

“Arrested. He’s probably being booked on two counts of vehicular manslaughter as we speak,” she stated.

“Rural cops move fast,” Dean commented.

“They do when there are loads of witnesses and the suspect has a long record of “accidents” and police run-ins.” Skuld crossed her arms over her chest with a shrug. “They were slapping the cuffs on him while we were working on you guys.”

Dean rested his elbows on his knees, letting out a heavy sigh.

“You should get some rest.” Skuld moved to Dean’s bedside, looking down at the man kindly. “When Urd and Verdandi get back, we can get you dressed and moving around.”

Dean looked up at the woman quietly for a moment, the medication fog lifting briefly. “What?”

“When my sisters get back, we’ll get you dressed and moving around.” She put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, gently pushing him down on the bed. “Until then, you should get some rest. Both of you.”

Sam watched his brother fall back against the pillows at Skuld’s prompting, voicing the question he knew was on his brother’s mind. “Where are your sisters?”

Skuld got Dean down on the bed easily enough, pulling the blankets up around him. “Doing clean up.”

“Clean up?” Dean was starting to sound groggy, looking at the woman through half-closed eyes.

“It means they are removing the remaining traces of you from this town.” Skuld straightened, tugging at the hem of her white tee shirt. “They’re cleaning out your motel, probably intimidating the motel manager knowing Verdandi, and making Agents May and Mercury nothing more than a couple tragic footnotes during a bloody point in local history.”

Sam’s eyes followed the woman’s movements when she walked to the desk below the windows and began looking through the two orange kits. “What about the car?”

The question got Dean’s attention, making the drugged man level an accusatory finger at her. “Did you steal my keys?”

“Why would I steal your keys, Dean?” She waved the older man off and turned back to Sam. “They’re going to get the car and bring it back here. No worries; no one is going to get your car. Verdandi would definitely see to that part herself.”

“I don’t want her driving my car,” Dean protested, waving his arm toward her wildly.

Skuld rolled her eyes and shook her head at the comment, letting out a heavy sigh. Her gaze moved to Sam and the apologetic shrug he gave her before once more focusing on the flailing arm. Her lips pursed and she bit back the very un-nurse like compulsion to slap the drugged man. Instead, her attention went to Sam.

“Verdandi owns a garage in Chicago, Rides of the Valkyrie, so she’ll take good care of the car. She’ll treat it like it was her own.” She rested her hands on her hips and watched Dean finally give into the drug in his system. “I thought he’d never go to sleep.”

“Dean is stubborn,” Sam commented.

“I can see that,” she mumbled.

Sam carefully shifted against his pillow, cringing at the dull ache in is ribs with each breath. He managed to find a comfortable position and relaxed a little more, the ache beginning to subside. “So we’re clear? Kim won’t be an issue any more?”

“She shouldn’t be, at least for as long as she doesn’t know your real names.” Skuld turned on her heel and walked the width of the room to look out the window nearest Dean’s bed. “And I seriously doubt she’ll go looking for you two.”

“What about you? Will she come looking for you?”

Skuld shook her head, pulling the ratty looking drapes shut. “She only looks for us when she wants someone dead. And those times she summons us.”

Sam thought back to Urd’s disappearing act at the Mardyn farm and the fear he had seen on the blonde’s face, a mournful expression clouding his features. He could only imagine what the others had going through their minds when the collars snapped tight.

“That’s why helping you is so important to us. You’re our promise of finally being free,” Skuld added.

“Well, with Kim thinking we’re dead it may be a little easier to help you,” Sam confided.

Skuld raked her teeth across her bottom lip, her eyes holding a hint of doubt. “Don’t be so sure about that, Sam.”

The young man watched her walk over to the door but said nothing.

“We’ve been around long enough to know that, when dealing with people like Kim, nothing comes easy.” She gave him a kind smile, pausing in the doorway. “Get some rest. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Sam watched the red-head disappear into the hallway, listening to her footsteps on the hardwood floors before giving into the medicine in his system and falling asleep.

~*~

The bedroom was comfortably warm when the two men began to wake, the sound of female voices coming up from the floor below. With the drugs still in their system it took a moment for the surroundings to process. The hazy memories of their morning and the covert mission to get them off Kim’s radar returned slowly as did the realization that, in their current state, they were more dependent on the women downstairs than the three were on them.

Dean stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, trying to will away the pain in his back with each breath he took. He felt like he had a mouthful of cotton; smacking his lips absently he turned his face toward Sam’s bed. He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes briefly to clear his vision before dropping it back against the bed. “Sammy?”  
Sam groaned from the second bed, the springs protesting as he shifted. “I’m awake.”

Dean attempted a deep breath and toyed with the idea of rolling over. “Any sign of our nurse?”

“She said she was going downstairs before I fell asleep,” Sam mumbled. “Why? You want to accuse her of stealing the Impala keys again?”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he smacked his lips once more, his voice lowering. “Nooo…” The idea to sit up ran through his mind for a second before a dull ache racing across his shoulders silenced it. “I’m just thirsty.”

“Uh huh. Somehow I don’t believe that.” Sam coughed, cringing at the pain that shot through his ribs. “And I’m sure she’s going to believe that excuse too.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest but said nothing as his eyes moved around the room and fell on the duffle bags near the door. “Are those our bags?”

“What are you talking about?” The question sounded more like a whine coming from Sam, the younger man’s head lifting slightly.

“The bags by the door.” Dean motioned toward the bags, craning his neck. “They look like our bags.”

“That’s because they are your bags.”

Urd’s voice at the doorway grabbed both men’s attention and drew their eyes to the red-head and blonde who stood watching them from the hallway.

“Did you think we’d have you run around half naked?” Urd added.

Dean eyed the pair for a moment as Sam set his head back on his pillow. “There’s no telling with you.”

Urd was the first to come across the threshold, grabbing one of the duffle bags as she passed by. “You wound me, Dean. You’re making me out to be worse than Verdandi.”

“No one is worse than Verdandi,” Skuld snorted. She followed her sister’s lead and grabbed the second bag, walking toward Sam’s bed. “It’s actually a little insulting to be compared to her, honestly.”

Dean watched the blonde’s jaw set and heard her frustrated sigh, shooting her a cocky grin. “Problem, Urd?”

“Shut it, Dean, or I will make you run around half-naked,” she hissed. She pulled the duffle open, grabbing a shirt and a pair of jeans. “See how cocky you are then.”

Skuld set the bag she carried near Sam’s feet and cleared her throat, her eyes going from Dean to Urd. “Is this normal for you two?”

“Very,” Sam answered, looking at Skuld. “They’ve been going back and forth like this non-stop.”

“Lovely.” The red-head shot her sister an annoyed look, resting a hand on her hip. “And you say Verdandi and I are bad.”

Urd pursed her lips, taking an even breath. “Let’s just get them up and dressed, okay? We can talk about this later.”

Skuld shrank back slightly, picking out a light grey shirt and pair of jeans for Sam before dropping the duffle on the floor. “Fine.”

Dean watched the sisters with an amused look in his eyes. “Looks like a nice family reunion you’re having.”

The look Urd gave Dean was bordering on murderous, throwing the clothing at him. “Remember who plays your nurse, Dean.”

Skuld moved to the head of Sam’s bed and gave the man a kind smile, setting the clothes nearby. “Feel good enough to try getting up?”

Sam groaned at the stiff feeling in his shoulders as he tried to ease himself up on his elbows. He still hurt but not as bad as he had been; the sharp pain he had felt when he first woke up in the house now more of a dull radiating ache. He was thankful he could at least move at this point. Carefully he pushed his left arm under himself and shifted his shoulders slightly, managing to get up on his right elbow before Skuld helped him into a seated position. “Thanks.”

“Skuld mentioned you were asking how bad you were hit,” Urd said calmly, walking the couple feet up to the head of Dean’s bed. “If you still want to know, we’re willing to show you.”

The room spun for a moment when Dean attempted to sit up on his own, Urd putting a hand under his shoulder to steady him.

“But it’s up to you if you want to know or not,” Skuld added, taking a seat next to Sam. “Totally up to you if you really want to know.”

“Of course I want to know,” Dean blurted out.

Skuld’s eyes drifted over to Urd, watching the older woman shake her head. “Thought so.”

“We figured as much with you.” Urd made sure Dean was steady before she removed her hand. “Almost thought against asking.”

Skuld turned her attention back to Sam. “That just leaves you, Sam.”

The younger man gave a nod and rested his arms in his lap, taking a slow breath. “Yeah.”

Urd remained silent and crossed back to the door, disappearing into the hallway.

“We had been debating on asking you both since Verdandi found the old mirrors out in the garage.” Skuld eased herself up from Sam’s bed, her voice carrying back to the room as she joined her sister. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea really.”

Two sets of eyes focused on the door when the pair reappeared carrying a full-length mirror between them.

“But, like Urd pointed out, full disclosure is a good thing,” Skuld added.

They carefully maneuvered the glass into the far corner of the room where it could lean against the wall before taking a step back to make sure it was straight. After a quick adjustment by Urd, Skuld left once more and returned with a ratty looking box.

“Now don’t be surprised if you look worse than you actually are,” Urd commented, pulling out a lantern from the box. Her fingers flicked the camping light on, placing it on the floor by the mirror’s base. “We are working with limited tools here.”

“But we have medical training and we kept you both as comfortable as we could with those limited tools,” Skuld chimed in.

Urd leveled an unamused look at her youngest sister, sarcasm practically dripping from her voice when she spoke. “Go us.”

The red-head stuck her tongue out defiantly and made her way around the room placing candles and lanterns around the slowly dimming room.

Urd sighed and looked at the two men while Skuld continued placing candles and lanterns around the room. “Do you want to know exactly what happened with your injuries? Because, believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”

Dean shifted on his bed and rolled his shoulders, feeling the surgical tape on his back tug at his skin. “Might as well know everything.”

“Okay.” She motioned toward Dean when Skuld finished lighting the last lantern. “Age before beauty.”

Skuld chuckled at the offended look on Dean’s face and moved to help him out of bed.

The motions were slow but he managed to get to his feet with Skuld’s help. His joints were stiff when he walked and the floor was cold beneath his feet, Skuld keeping him steady as they crossed to the mirror. He wished he could do more than just shuffle across the floor but at least he was up and moving.

Urd took him by the elbow and moved to stand behind him, giving her sister a curt nod. “I’ll take care of this. Go get the other mirror.”

Dean barely registered the blonde’s comment, staring at his reflection. “Son of a bitch.”

“I told you, it’s not pretty,” Urd commented.

Not pretty was an obvious understatement. He had more bruises covering him than he could ever remember having. His whole left side was a deep purple, the sickening color following the curve of his ribs and wrapping around his hip before disappearing beneath the dark fabric of his briefs. There were a handful of cuts and scrapes dotting his legs but the worst of them seemed centered around his right thigh. A bruise looked to be forming at his cheek, nothing he couldn’t live with, but he couldn’t quite remember how he got it.

“Now you both got hit about the same time but you each got different outcomes,” Urd began. She brought Dean’s arm up to give him a better look, pointing at the darker purples and blacks at his hip. “The bumper hit here and when you went down, you slid down it, causing the massive bruise going up your ribcage, and under the truck. The bruise on your cheek is from the lower section of the bumper beneath the running lights.”

Her hands moved to the surgical tape on his shoulder and pulled it free, a patch of gauze reflecting in the glass. “You landed on your right side and went under the truck. I managed to keep you away from the tires though.”

“That’s a plus,” Dean mumbled.

Urd took a deep breath and he saw more gauze reflected in the glass as he felt a chilled breeze against his back.

“It’s looking better,” Skuld commented. She appeared beside her sister in the mirror, examining Dean’s back. “It’s not as red as it was.”

“What’s she talking about?” He watched the women trade items before Skuld stepped away holding a mass of surgical tape and soiled gauze in her hands. “What’s looking better?”  
Urd pursed her lips and slowly turned Dean so his back was to the full length mirror. She reached for the wooden frame resting at her feet and brought it up to chest level. “Your back.”

Dean remained silent when she raised the mirror up and reflected the image from the glass behind him.

His back was a painful mass of deep cuts and raw scraps of skin. The cuts covered his back and finally began to taper off just above his hips, patches of bright red flesh dotting the injury. Pieces of skin looked to have been sanded away near his shoulders and a few of the scrapes seemed to be discolored by either bruises or dirt, the whole thing making him openly cringe. He knew about road rash but this was worse than he had before.

“I kept you from being run over but you got caught by something on the undercarriage and dragged.” Urd watched the young man’s reaction before continuing. “You were dragged about twenty feet before you got free.”

Dean stared at the wound, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Aside from that and the bruises, you have two cracked ribs,” Urd finished.

He looked away from the mirror and focused on the woman in from of him. “I’m not feeling any pain.”

“After we clean it, we apply an antibiotic cream with Lidocaine in it to ease the pain. When it’s coupled with the morphine, you’re lucky you can feel anything,” she explained.  
Skuld rejoined her sister, giving the young man a kind smile. “Each time we changed your bandages, we made it a point to clean your wounds. And each time it’s looked better.”  
“Believe me, Dean, you could have ended up a lot worse,” Urd added. “A lot worse.”

His gaze moved back to the mirror for a moment. Looking at the injury on his back made him feel uneasy, the raw patches of skin lending credence to the blonde’s comment. Knowing exactly how it happened and just how close he came to being killed were what seemed to drive it home more than the actual wounds. He knew beyond a doubt the outcome could have been worse if Urd hadn’t been there; the road rash on his back would have been the least of his worries.

Skuld put a hand on his shoulder as she moved to his side, pulling his attention from the mirror. “Now let’s get you dressed and bandaged back up.”

Urd’s gaze turned to Sam when Skuld led Dean away, carefully placing the wooden framed mirror on the floor. “Your turn, Sam.”

Sam’s attention traveled from his brother’s back to the blonde who slowly approached the end of his bed. “Do I look that bad?”

“No, Sam, you don’t.” Urd offered him a hand and helped him up, her voice kind. “You’re more bruised than anything.”

His muscles protested when he stood, even more when he moved, and made his walk across the floor slower than he would have liked. Her hand on his left arm kept him steady when the bed was no longer in reach and pushed him when his legs seemed to lock up but never faster than he was able.

His eyes darkened when he first caught sight of his reflection, cringing.

There didn’t look to be any skin on his left side that wasn’t a dark purple and black mottled with sickly yellowed-greens or covered in cuts. His shoulder was peppered with scratches of varying sizes against a background of deep purple. There was a massive bruise discoloring his hip that started about two inches above the waistband of his grey boxer briefs only to stop halfway down his thigh. The bulk of the cuts he sported were on his face, crisscrossing along his cheek and jaw before going further down his neck.

“Unlike your brother, you went up instead of under.” Urd took her hand from his arm and gave him a look at the bruise at his elbow, a nearly perfect Dodge emblem staring back. “This is courtesy of the impact but it will fade.”

“I look like I’ve been branded,” Sam mumbled.

“Like I said, it will fade overtime,” Urd repeated.

The words weren’t too comforting to him as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You hit the trucks windshield. Thankfully automotive glass has advanced so you weren’t turned into a pin cushion but it did scrape you up when it shattered.” She looked at his reflection, peeking around the taller man’s arm. “You bounced off the hood and into the windshield before rolling off when the truck finally stopped. You came to rest in front of the truck.” She took a step back, motioning toward Sam as a whole. “You have a couple bruised ribs from the impact, which is to be expected, and a lot of cuts from the glass. You did get a little scraped up when you hit the ground but it’s not as bad as Dean’s back.”

Sam watched the goddess in the mirror before taking a slow step back. “I can see why you’re giving us morphine.”

“We’re slowly easing you off it and on to high dose non-narcotics as needed.” Urd grabbed his clothes from the end of the bed, handing over the dark jeans. “Wouldn’t want you getting too dependent on the hard stuff.”

Dean took a sharp breath when Skuld began cleaning the wounds on his back. “How did you manage to get all these bandages and drugs? You clean out the ambulance you brought us here in?”

“Yes,” Skuld replied calmly.

Urd nodded in agreement when Sam leveled a disbelieving look her way. “We needed the supplies so we cleaned out the ambulance before Verdandi dropped it off.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Skuld who had focused her cleaning on the road rash running across his shoulder blade. “I thought one of you was missing.”

“Verdandi isn’t one for bedside manner,” Skuld admitted carefully running the alcohol dampened gauze across the raw skin. She placed a hand against Dean’s upper arm to still him when he shifted. “Don’t get me wrong about her. She’s a good nurse when she is needed but after all these years she’s gotten a little rough around the edges.” Her attention wavered from her task at hand to her sister as she helped Sam get dressed. “Did you know she hustles pool?”

“Sounds about right,” Urd chuckled.

“I really think she may have a criminal record somewhere,” Skuld mused, returning to Dean’s back.

Sam cringed when he pulled his shirt over his head and moved to take a seat. “Yet another thing the myths don’t mention.”

“Like Future being an event planner?” Dean questioned.

“Or Present owning a garage in Chicago.” Sam sat down on the edge of his own bed and watched Skuld don a pair of surgical gloves. “So what’s next?”

“We’ve gotten her attention off of you so now we turn our attention on to her,” Urd answered, moving for the door. She glanced back toward Skuld as the red-head applied an antibiotic to the older man’s back. “Head downstairs when you feel like it. We put your weapons in the kitchen and your research materials in the living room.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked from his bed.

“To talk to a woman about a book,” the blonde commented from the hallway.

Skuld sighed, smearing a thin layer of cream against Dean’s back. “I swear she’s just encouraging Verdandi.”

~*~

It took a couple minutes for stiff joints to ease enough to walk before either man ventured far from the room. Each step made the pains in their muscles ease, the hobbling gate giving them time to examine their surroundings.

It was clear the house had been abandoned for a while, the peeling paint and water stains not just relegated to their room. A couple windows were cracked, most of them clouded over with dirt. It was easy to see the home had been neglected. The few bits of furniture scattered around the rooms looked to be little more than discards left behind when the former owners moved out, showing their age in broken legs and discolored wood. It was echoed from room to room, broken pieces of furniture and some odd knick-knacks that no one wanted left to rot in some forgotten house in the middle of nowhere. There was some evidence that someone had attempted to clean but didn’t get very far; small piles of dust and dirt swept neatly and waiting to be gathered up.

Dean stopped when they reached the top of the stairs, letting Sam pass by as he could still see out enough to make out their surroundings. The lawn was weed choked and overgrown, a swing set frame standing neglected a few feet away from the house. A dirt driveway lead up to a small garage that looked to be connected to the house, its roof littered with dead leaves and small branches from a maple tree beside it. There were no neighboring houses nearby that he could make out, not even the hint of one. Where ever they were it was private.

He turned away from the window and began his slow decent down the staircase.

The stairs creaked and the voices grew louder with each step until he stood at the bottom beside his brother.

The lower level wasn’t as bad as the upstairs had been. The floors had been swept clean and any random left behind items had either been thrown out or placed out of the way. The living room looked almost livable, the couch covered by a light blue sheet like a slip cover. An old table sat near the room’s bay window covered with Sam’s books, his computer and a myriad of papers that Dean was pretty sure weren’t Sam’s. The light in the room came mostly from a pair of LED lanterns near the table, dark shadows hovering in the far corners where the light fell short.

Sam walked over to the table while Dean examined the room, taking a look out the window before going over the papers near his laptop. “Well, it’s not bad for a hideout.”

“We’ve squatted in worse,” Dean admitted, running a hand along the back of the couch. “And this one has furniture. “

“I doubt anyone knows this house is even here.” Sam motioned toward the bay window behind him. “And we’re away from the road so no one is going to notice the house is occupied.”

Dean studied the living room’s brick fireplace, rolling his shoulders with a groan. “Private is good.”

Both men’s attention shifted when they caught the soft murmur of voices coming from the back of the house.

It wasn’t loud enough to tell who was talking or about what but it was enough to draw the pair into the adjoining entry hall. They walked past the home’s former dining room and stopped in front of a swinging door that looked newer than most of the house, hearing the voices more clearly on the other side. The sound of shuffling footsteps and two voices penetrated the door along with the all too familiar sound of a shotgun being racked.

The men exchanged an unsure glance before Dean cautiously pushed the door open.

The kitchen looked more like an armory, the counters holding every weapon that had been stored in the Impala’s trunk. The worn counter tops were filled by the various guns and knives they carried, each one laid out carefully as though they were on display. The lone table in the room was covered with ammunition; clips of iron rounds and rock salt shells scattered among silver bullets and hunting rifle rounds. The talismans and mojo bags that usually hung from the trunk’s false lining had been set out beside the kitchen sink carefully but were otherwise untouched.

Skuld sat at the ammo cluttered table across from Urd, a rock salt shell poured out on the table in front of her. Urd was more interested in the restocking of an EMT kit than the composition of some shotgun shells and paid no attention to her sister’s ammunition autopsy. While Skuld poked at the pile of rock salt before her and Urd placed fresh supplies in the bright orange emergency kit, Verdandi leaned against the kitchen counter examining one of the sawed off shotguns. None of them really even looked up when the men entered.

“It’s just rock salt,” Skuld mused. She grabbed a pinch of the salt, rolling the grains between her fingers. “Never would have thought about putting rock salt in a shotgun shell.”

Verdandi placed the sawed off she had been looking over back on the counter. “I’m honestly impressed with this little arsenal. I mean really. I could never manage to hide this much weaponry in a car trunk.”

“Is that a compliment?” Dean questioned, standing inside the door with Sam beside him.

Verdandi looked over her shoulder toward the pair, a sultry smile tugging at her lips. “Take it how you want, kid.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the comment while Sam made his way to an empty seat near Skuld. “Kid?”

“Don’t go there, Dean.” Urd closed a pocket of the EMT kit, her attention shifting to the man. “You’re injured enough thanks to her.”

Sam watched Skuld sweep the rock salt into a small pile, his eyes moving to the shotgun shell laying sliced open nearby. “What are you doing?”

She straightened in her chair, the red-hair looking a little faded. “Just seeing what you hunters use.”

“You’ve become something of an oddity for my sisters.” The blonde closed the last pocket of the bright orange bag, her gaze turning toward the ammunition on the table. “Hence the gun show.”

Dean shuffled over to the guns situated neatly on the counter, reaching for the ivory gripped .45 he always preferred. “So you cleared out every weapon from my trunk?”

“Well yeah. We wanted to see what your kind carried around on these little hunting trips of yours and I honestly didn’t want to spend my night huddled around your trunk.” Verdandi crossed her arms, the leather of her corset letting out a tiny squeak when she moved. “Urd is the one who knows hunters, not us.”

The weight of the pistol in his hand was oddly comforting. The cold steel against his palm coupled with the glint of lamp light across the engraved barrel helped push the earlier unpleasantness back from the forefront of his mind. Even the sound of the slide when he pulled it back seemed to make is aches and pains fade.

“And you’re welcome, by the way,” Verdandi added.

Dean paused as he pressed the pistol’s clip release, catching the empty clip that fell out easily. “For what? Hitting me with a truck?”

“Giving you an oil change while you were knocked out on loopy juice.” She rolled her shoulder with a pop before leaning back against the counter. “And I cleaned your little arsenal too.”

Dean blinked at the answer and looked at the pistol in his hand. “Um, thanks?”

“She had to do something while Urd and I played nurse with you,” Skuld blurted.

“I ain’t a nurse,” Verdandi grumbled, her eyes narrowed. “Not anymore.”

“And we’re all very grateful for that.” Skuld rested her elbows on the table as she spoke to her older sister. “You’re not exactly the most caring individual when it comes to the injured or, you know, anyone with a pulse.”

Verdandi pushed away from the counter and began to make her way toward the table, venom lacing her words. “You want me to bounce your smartass off this crappy linoleum floor, don’t you?”

Urd was on her feet in a heartbeat, putting a hand on Verdandi’s chest to stop her. “Don’t you dare.”

The men watched the blowup silently, Dean putting down the .45 and taking a step back.

“I don’t see you doing much to help get us the hell out of here. The most you’ve done is whine and play nurse,” Verdandi growled.

Skuld glared at the dark haired woman, her jaw setting. “Oh yeah. Cause making sure they can walk and talk after you plow them down is so easy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot easier than what I had to do,” Verdandi shot back. She took a step to the side but was blocked from going any further by Urd. “Then I get to come back here and deal with your snide remarks. That’s bull.”

“Enough. Both of you,” Urd warned as she pushed Verdandi back.

“You don’t make those stupid comments to Urd, do you?” Verdandi persisted.

“I said enough.”

The two men jumped when Urd surged forward and slammed Verdandi into the wall. Sheet rock splintered at the force of the impact and the cupboard doors rattled, the black haired woman letting out a groan. Urd kept the woman pinned against the wall with a hand pressing hard in the center of Verdandi’s chest.

“This is not the time or the place for this and you damn well know it,” Urd hissed. When Verdandi tried to move, she pushed the leather clad figure harder into the wall. “I’m serious. You two want to fight then you find a nice quiet corner to do it but not here.”

“You sticking up for her or are you gonna break some plaster with her back too?” Verdandi spat.

Urd’s free hand shot out and disappeared into the wall beside her sister’s head. “I’m not sticking up for anyone. I’d much rather bury you both and dance on your graves with as bad as you’ve annoyed me but I can’t. So how about you two suck it up and play nice until we get out of here and then you can tear each other apart. Okay?”

Beside Sam, Skuld sank down in her chair and remained quiet as her oldest sister spoke. She didn’t look up during the lecture, not even toward the hunter beside her, instead focusing on the small pile of salt on the table.

“I want to go home to my normal, dull everyday life. I want to get out of here just as bad as you and Skuld do but this bickering is not helping.” Urd’s eyes met her sisters, her voice cold. “So both of you knock it off.”

Verdandi slid down the wall when she was let go, tiny chips of plaster bouncing against the floor. She dusted herself off and retreated to a far corner of the room away from Urd, ignoring Skuld as she passed by the table. She said nothing as she hooked an old chair with her toe and spun it around to have a seat.

Dean’s attention shifted to the cracked wall for a moment and cringed. “And that’s with the collar?”

“They limit our powers, not block it completely,” Urd said evenly.

Dean nodded slowly at the answer and looked back at the guns for some sort of distraction. “Point taken.”

The tension was still high when Sam shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. All the arguments he and Dean ever had never came close to what they had just seen. The speed and force that sent Verdandi into the wall to leave the deep cracks made all the fist fights they got into seem like simple name calling.

“So what were you talking about before we came in?” he questioned, hoping to defuse the situation. “Anything we can help with?”

The feel of the room changed when Urd took her seat with a sigh. “Our next move.”

“With you two “dead” it means Kim is free to start killing off people in town again,” Skuld explained. She straightened and swept her hand across the pile of salt absently. “Which is always a thrill.”

“Back to working on her never ending hit list,” Verdandi grumbled.

“Unless we find a way to stop her, that is,” Urd added.

Dean slowly made his way to the table and grabbed a chair across from Sam. “Any ideas how?”

“None yet,” Skuld sighed.

Sam looked over the ammo laden table and thought for a moment. “You mentioned she summons you. How?”

Three sets of eyes zeroed in on Sam at the question.

“How does she summon us?” Verdandi asked.

Skuld blinked, a confused scowl darkening her face. “What do you mean how?”

Sam pursed his lips and glanced from one sister to the next. “Well, do you remember anything from the times Kim summoned you?”

“Like this last time,” Dean added, focusing on Urd. “You said she summoned you at the grain elevator. You remember anything that sticks out from that?”

Verdandi and Skuld said nothing, Urd answering with a nod. “There was a circle drawn out in the dirt. Looked like it had been scuffed out with her heel.”

“It was the first time she summoned us outside too,” Skuld stated. She seemed almost surprised with her answer as she pointed across the table at her sister. “She never did that before.”

Dean scowled as he listened to the pair. “But what about the field you woke up in?”

“The bitch wasn’t there,” Verdandi spat, her arms resting on the top of the chair back. “As far as we could see at least. All we found around there was the corpse a couple feet from the crater we made.”

Sam shook his head, thinking over the new information.

Dean knew the signs when something didn’t add up in his brother’s mind. The “sucking on lemons” expression, the silence that usually accompanied it along with a laundry list of head nods or shakes had become something of a trademark for the younger man. There were also the subtle signs he was over thinking but, considering the current situation, Dean was sure that wasn’t the case. “What’s going through that weirdo brain of yours, Sammy?”

Sam carefully stood and made his way to the kitchen’s swinging door, leaving the four behind. “Something isn’t right.”

“Sammy?” the older man called after him.

Verdandi cocked her head to the side as the door swung closed behind him. “Your brother does that often? Just randomly walk out of a conversation like that?”

“Depends on the conversation.” Dean could hear Sam shuffling down the hallway, sighing as he turned his attention back to the trio. “He’s got something on his mind.”

“Clearly,” Urd mumbled.

After a moment, Sam reappeared with a couple books in his arms. “It seems strange that Kim wouldn’t be at the farm where you woke up.”

“Well she wasn’t. All we found was Ballard’s body, that wreck of a farm house and a lot of dirt.” Verdandi rested her head on her arms with a deep sigh. “The homely shrew wasn’t there.”

Sam returned to his previous seat, opening one of the books in front of him. “Do you remember anything else about that night?”

“Well, we left one hell of a crater,” Skuld offered.

“Besides that.” Sam looked up from the yellowed pages briefly, Skuld looking at him innocently. “Do you remember anything besides the crater?”

“I remember picking dirt clods out of my hair for most of the night,” Verdandi chimed in.

Urd shook her head. “The dirt didn’t smell right.”

“It didn’t smell right?” Dean questioned.

“It didn’t smell like dirt. It wasn’t that clean, sharp smell you get when you dig a hole in the ground.” Urd paused as she pursed her lips. “It smelled too much of iron.”

Dean blinked in confusion, looking toward his brother. “Because that sounds totally normal.”

The pages rustled softly while Sam skimmed the contents of each. “It sounds like Kim chummed the waters, so to speak.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Verdandi stood and made her way over to the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sam stopped on one of the yellowed pages and turned the book around for the group. “I think her sacrifice was part of a larger blood ritual. And she wouldn’t be the first.”

The page he had stopped on was a wood cut illustration of a Mayan sacrifice, the thin lines covering the page in a gruesome and bloody scene. Four men stood holding a fifth down by his arms and legs while a gaping hole occupied his chest. A priest stood above the prone man with a dagger in one hand and the man’s heart in the other, raising it up in offering to the sun above.

Skuld shook her head in disbelief while Verdandi let out a huff. “She killed the man as an offering?”

“We don’t do human sacrifices. Never have,” Verdandi informed as she rested her hands on her hips. “Honestly I’d rather have an offering of good whiskey myself.”

“Of course you would,” Urd muttered, looking at the page.

“Well, I’m not exactly a candy and flowers kinda girl,” Verdandi quipped.

“I think she used him as more than just an offering.” Sam grimaced and shifted in his seat. “The way Ballard’s throat was slit looked like it was meant to do more than kill him.”

Skuld sat back in her chair with a disgusted look. “You cannot be seriously suggesting what I think you are.”

“She bled him dry and used his blood to yank us here,” Urd lamented.

Sam nodded as Dean cringed.

“What is wrong with that woman?” Skuld’s question was said more out of frustration than curiosity.

“Sounds really stable, doesn’t she?” Dean was met with an incredulous look from the red- head. “We’ve been wondering that too.”

Verdandi stepped away from the table and began to pace the room, balling her fists. “This is why I don’t trust humans. This crap right here.”

“She killed a man to bring us here, keeps us collared and makes us kill for her all because of a blood ritual.” Skuld examined the image in the book briefly before putting her head down on the table. “That’s one hell of a blood spell.”

Urd pushed the book away, leveling her gaze on Sam. “I’ve looked into my fair share of spells and rituals and I have never come across any blood rituals this strong.”

“Looks like she found one of those spells you hadn’t studied yet,” Dean offered.

The blonde’s jaw set and her eyes grew cold at the man’s comment but she said nothing.

Sam closed the book, his gaze falling briefly on the leather-clad goddess pacing the room with a scowl on her face. “There is no telling how she got hold of the ritual. And I doubt she’d just come out and say how she found it.”

Verdandi stopped her pacing, turning on her heel. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“We were thinking of finding out in our own way.” The blonde rested her elbows on the table as both men exchanged a quick glance. “A little more hands on than asking.”

Dean turned his attention to Verdandi and the wicked looking smile she wore as her older sister spoke. She looked ominous, the red and black clothing and dark hair making her skin far paler than either of the others. He had to keep telling himself this was a Fate and not just some pale and creepy random woman they had run into on the street. But, looking at her now, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She was the one who chose how you died and there was no telling what was going through her head to warrant such a smile.

“Should we be worried about your way?” he cautiously asked.

“Why? You’re not Kim,” the dark haired woman answered with a shrug.

Skuld shook her head and pushed away from the table with a huff, leveling an un-amused glare at the black-haired woman. “Since we’re doing your plan, I have to go wash this color out of my hair.”

“Go on, grandma.” Verdandi waved the woman away before she headed for a door at the back of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

The red-head glared after her retreating sister then turned to look at Urd. There was venom in her voice when she spoke, motioning to the door that swung shut behind Verdandi. “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to deal with her every damn day.”

Urd nodded in agreement, combing her fingers back through her hair. “Skuld, we’ve already established she’s a bitch. She’s proud of that fact actually. Complaining about her won’t change a damn thing.”

“She needs to drop the whole “I’m a badass” act. It’s annoying,” Skuld fumed as she shot a glare toward the door.

The blonde sat back and stretched with a groan. “I don’t think that’s an act.” She nodded to the kitchen’s swinging door and slowly got to her feet. “Now go get the color rinsed out of your hair.”

The younger woman rolled her eyes, storming out of the room with a huff.

“Are we missing something here? I mean what are you three planning?” Sam inquired. The questioning expression on his face was mirrored by Dean sitting across from him. “What are you up to?”

Urd waved off the questions dismissively. “It’s nothing to worry about. No cars or bodily harm is involved in any of this.”

“That’s not comforting,” Dean admitted.


	22. Chapter 22

Growing up Sam and Dean had learned a lot of things. Some things, like the lock pick training, came in handy. Hot wiring a car had its place in their repertoire of less than legal skills as did pick pocketing and hustling. Their father taught them well but sometimes they ran into someone who could make them seem like the most uncoordinated men on the planet.

Verdandi was that someone.

For the hour the pair sat in the “borrowed” minivan, they had watched her pickpocket at least seven people without breaking a sweat. Anything not nailed down was fair game for the woman. She was quick too, grabbing wallets and emptying them of any cash they had before returning them unnoticed. Her mark would walk away, notably broke and unsuspecting, as she stood nearby with a cell phone to her ear.

Dean watched victim number eight come and go with a snort, motioning to the sidewalk. “You would think she’d get bored after the fifth guy.”

“Kind of blows her whole goddess persona out of the water,” Sam mumbled.

“Goddess of Fate, picker of pockets.” Dean sat back in the driver’s seat, glancing toward his brother. “Doesn’t really scream epic myth, does it?”

Sam shook his head with a small laugh. “Not quite.”

Their attention returned to the street as the black-haired woman moved toward the bookstore.

“She must have spotted Kim.” Sam straightened in his seat when Verdandi disappeared into the store. “Hope this works.”

Dean examined the street, spotting Kim exiting the corner market. “We’ve watched the woman pick pocket half the town in an hour. Something tells me Verdandi’s plan is gonna work.”

Sam kept his eyes on the sidewalk as he relaxed in his seat. “Where do you think she learned to pick pockets like that?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how the one became an event planner,” Dean mumbled, running a hand back through his hair.

The younger man settled back in his seat, motioning to the bookstore and the three familiar figures that emerged. “They are an interesting trio. Not exactly what I expected.”

They watched the three from the bookstore head down the street, the little old lady with the off-red hair and her two Catholic school uniformed granddaughters moving toward Kim.

The girls, much more energetic than their bag carrying grandmother, appeared to be talking to the woman as they walked with her. They didn’t seem to notice Kim when they neared, the girls continuing to talk while the old woman shuffled along. The old woman stopped to look in her purse, the girls coming to a stop a couple feet away. They kept talking, more to each other than the old woman, paying no attention to Kim when she walked past them.

“What are they doing?” Sam wondered.

“Are they letting her go?” Dean sat forward, resting his arms on the steering wheel. “That can’t be right.”

The old woman continued to dig in her purse while Kim walked closer, the girls leveling their gaze on her. The blonde brought her right hand up and gave her wrist a quick roll, her fingers clenching. Her arm jerked quickly while the black haired girl beside her rolled her neck.

Kim stumbled and fell forward, knocking the elderly woman to the sidewalk. Her grocery bag spilled across the pavement along with her purse, the contents mixing with the books from the old woman’s shopping bag.

Dean grinned as the girls rushed to help the fallen women, Urd checking on her “grandmother” while Verdandi began gathering up the fallen items. “I like this idea.”

Sam shook his head as Verdandi picked up a brown leather journal and shoved it in Kim’s bag. “The tripping is a nice touch.”

Urd appeared to be trying to calm the old woman down while Skuld lay on the sidewalk moaning in pain. A small group was beginning to gather around the scene, the gawkers giving Verdandi enough of a cover to slip the worn leather book that had fallen from Kim’s purse into Skuld’s shopping bag unnoticed. A quick change of expression and some tears on her cheek made the sticky fingered pickpocket just an upset little girl.

“She’s good.” Dean sounded impressed, sitting back with a chuckle. “She’s damn good for a pagan god.”

“I’m sure she’s had some practice,” Sam added.

Kim looked uneasy, the small group of people who had gathered only seeming to increase the tension. She hid it as best she could to those around her but after having dealt with the woman; neither of the men bought her act anymore. And judging from how the trio was drawing the situation out, the three were more than happy to make Kim sweat.

“How much do you wanna bet Kim is trying to figure out how to put them on her hit list,” Sam mused.

Dean shook his head, watching a local cop car pull up along with a fire rescue truck. “That is a sucker bet, Sammy.”

The crowd began to thin while Skuld was looked over by a paramedic and the police officer, Urd and Verdandi standing off to the side, questioned Kim. The street started to clear of gawkers and Kim allowed to leave as Skuld was helped up from the sidewalk and on to a nearby bench. Kim stayed just long enough to see the officer begin talking to the old woman before she too left, the none too subtle exit holding the attention of the two girls standing silently nearby.

“Well that was eventful and mildly entertaining,” Dean announced, clapping his hands together absently. “We should do this more often.”

Sam shook his head at the comment, watching the police officer talk to the girls for a moment before moving back to Skuld. “You mean watch three goddesses humiliate and rob a woman?”

Dean shrugged as the officer returned to speak with Skuld. “It’s more entertaining than watching the paint peel at the house.”

The rescue crew packed up their gear, the police officer moving off as Skuld waved him away. They stayed for a couple minutes, the police officer staying until Skuld got to her feet and began to walk off with her “granddaughters” in tow. The three moved slowly until the vehicles were well out of sight before quickening their pace and heading toward the waiting van.

Urd’s hand was on the door handle when Dean started the engine, Verdandi and Skuld jumping in before the side door had a chance to open completely. Urd was the last to enter, the door closing behind her while she settled in behind Sam. Dean took a quick look back at the three new passengers, getting a cocky grin from Verdandi before pulling away from the curb.

“That was actually kind of fun,” Skuld happily commented.

Verdandi grabbed the bookstore bag her sister had carried, digging around inside. “Wow. For once you aren’t all uppity about breaking laws.”

The bag rustled loudly when Verdandi finally got hold of the brown leather book she had grabbed from Kim, holding the aged and worn volume up like a trophy.

“What did you slip into Kim’s bag?” Sam asked, turning slightly in his seat.

“A book of dirty jokes and limericks,” Verdandi replied with a tiny shrug.

Dean let out a laugh that echoed around the van’s cabin. “Bet she’s gonna love that.”

Verdandi handed the book over to Urd before settling back against the van’s bench seat. “Like I care.”

“Let’s just get back to the house so we can look this over,” Urd advised, running her fingers across the book’s cover. “And figure out our next step.”

“And I can count my money,” Verdandi announced proudly.

~*~

The Impala’s hood shut with a heavy thud as Dean stood in front of his “baby”, wiping his hands on an old rag.

He had spent the better part of thirty minutes under the hood, checking everything he could think of. From the oil filter to the spark plugs he examined every inch of the engine for anything wrong. And all of it was because of the leather-clad goddess with the sticky fingers.

“Threatens to steal my car then gives it an oil change,” he mumbled, tossing the rag away. “There is something very wrong with her.”

The gravel littered floor crunched beneath his boots with each step toward the side door and the house beyond, the sun warm against his shoulders when he exited the garage. “But she does good work.”

They had been back at the house for at least an hour or so since Verdandi grabbed the book from Kim, a feeling of ease coming over them once the neglected house came into view.

It was safer avoiding town while the gossip about Kim’s little ‘incident’ made the inevitable rounds probably making its way to Kim more than once. After the humiliating scene any not so subtle reminders would more than likely anger Kim worse than she already was. She was probably trying to get the names of the old woman and her granddaughters for her list; actively looking for the three around town in some twisted plot to get photographs to go with the names. That, coupled with the fact Kim could stumble across the two not so dead men in her searching made the rundown farmhouse the safest place to be for the moment.

The side door let out a squeak of protest when he opened it, the floor boards creaking as he stepped inside the kitchen.

With the weapons secured in the trunk of the Impala, the kitchen was looking more like an actual kitchen. The counters, now empty, had been wiped off and the worn beige linoleum had been swept clean. The only two appliances, a microwave and compact refrigerator Verdandi had “borrowed without permission with no intention of returning”, stood beside the counter hooked up to an equally “borrowed” generator that stood in the home’s rear mudroom. A couple dozen candles and some camp lanterns gave them light when they needed it, casting their warm glow across the room’s table, its five mismatched chairs, and the two women inside.

Skuld barely looked up from her spot at the kitchen table, a cell phone to her ear and her hair wrapped up in a towel. There was a look of annoyance on her face as she drummed her fingers against the tabletop, letting out a frustrated huff. Her jaw set when she moved the cell phone to her other ear and shook her head.

Verdandi, on the other hand, appeared to be in her own little world.

She stood at the mini fridge with a bottle of beer in one hand, dancing to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts version of “Do You Wanna Touch Me” coming from a small radio behind her. She didn’t seem to care who was around, her body keeping time with the music. The leather hugged her curves and moved with each suggestive step she took and every tempting sway of her hips. Her hair cascaded along her back and shoulders when she threw her head back to expose the enticing line of her throat. She spun around singing into the beer bottle like a microphone, Dean finally getting a look at the tribal looking Celtic knot tattooed around her upper arm like a thorny vine.

He took a deep breath and bit the inside of his cheek. “I should not be turned on.”

Skuld threw her hand up with a groan. “I don’t care what the bitch says, Jamie.”

“Sounds like a lovely business call.” Verdandi spun on her heel and took a long drink off her beer. “And here I thought you were the prim and proper one.”

Skuld glared at her sister, turning in her chair.

Dean’s attention jumped from one woman to the other momentarily as he crossed to the mini fridge. “Should I ask?”

“Event planner crap.” Verdandi shrugged dismissively, swaying to the beat of Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks” beginning to play on the radio. “Or something equally boring.” She smiled and brought the bottle to her lips, pausing to watch Dean grab his own drink. “So how was your visit with the car?”

The beer in Dean’s hand opened with a hiss, the cap ringing against the counter when he tossed it on to the counter. He ignored the cocky grin Verdandi gave him and brought the bottle to his lips for a quick drink. “Anything from Sam and Urd yet?”

“Still buried in their books,” Verdandi replied with a shake of her head.

“Are you kidding me?” Skuld straightened in her seat, her face growing dark. “She really thinks I should “drop everything unimportant” and come back to work on her circus? We both know I can’t do that. The “family matter” isn’t something I can just leave.”

Verdandi swirled the beer in her bottle as she took up a place leaning against the counter. “Jamie is Skuld’s assistant and the only person who knows what she is.”

“Do you have one?” Dean motioned toward the annoyed goddess. “A person who knows what you are?”

“My accountant,” she answered.

“She can throw a fit all she wants; I’m not coming back until we can get out of this town. Miss high and mighty will just have to deal.” Skuld tugged at the towel on her head with a heavy sigh. “There is only one god in this whole business relationship and it’s not her.”

Verdandi chuckled, watching Skuld hang up. “Now that was entertaining.”

“I’ll be so glad when that stuck up bitch learns her perfect groom is sleeping with his best man,” Skuld grumbled. She pulled the towel from her head, her now slightly red tipped hair falling down across her back as she tossed the cell phone to Verdandi. “All yours.”

Verdandi’s free hand shot out and grabbed the phone while she drank, the bottle lowering slowly when she was done. “Thank you.”

“So if you hate dealing with people like that, why be an event planner?” Dean questioned.

“Because they aren’t all like her,” Skuld confided. She examined the ends of her hair for a moment with a frown, wrapping the towel around them and giving a hard squeeze. “We were in so many big events in history that most times the individual stories fell away. Personally, that fact is amazingly depressing.”

Dean glanced briefly toward Verdandi and the animated conversation she was having on the phone. Somehow he doubted she felt the same way Skuld did. He wouldn’t ask her but he doubted she was as fond of humans as her sister.

“So this time around I chose to be an event planner. It gives me a chance to see a happier side and not just death and doom.” Skuld rested the towel around her neck and gave her hair a quick tussle, setting her elbows on the table. “But there are the occasional clients who make you want to pull your hair out but they aren’t very frequent.”

A loud laugh from Verdandi got the pairs attention, both watching her jump up to sit on the counter. “Oh no. This is not a vacation.”

Skuld frowned and pushed away from the table, crossing to the small refrigerator. “And then there are the ones who act like her. Jamie always takes those clients with they show up.”

“So this Jamie girl knows who you are,” Dean noted, examining a brown stain on the ceiling. “How does that work?”

“Actually it works rather well. When I’m taking care of this part of my life, she’s taking care of the business.” Skuld knelt down to look in the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water. “It took a little getting used to on her part at first though. But in the end it worked out.”

“And how did she find out what you were?” the young man inquired.

A slight blush crept into her cheeks when she straightened, shrugging slightly. “She, um, saw us in a photo. From Pearl Harbor in 1941.”

Dean chuckled at the uneasy expression on Skuld’s face, the sound getting a tiny huff from the woman.

“I honestly can’t remember seeing anyone around us but her grandfather got a picture of us near the Arizona,” Skuld explained, the bottle cap making a cracking sound when she turned it. “We were just looking at Battleship Row and I guess he was getting a shot for his sweetheart back home. He just happened to get a shot of us along with it.”

“The Arizona?” Dean marveled.

“You know the ship the Pearl Harbor Memorial straddles in Honolulu. Exploded and sank on December 7th, 1941 killing 1,177 officers and crew. An armor piercing bomb ripped through its decks ignited its forward ammunition magazine and tore the ship apart.” Skuld watched him for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “Don’t they teach anything in history class anymore?”

Dean looked down at the woman beside him, his expression slightly annoyed. “I know what the Arizona was. I did pay some attention in school.”

“Well that’s a relief. Here I thought you humans were starting to dumb down,” she confided.

Dean nearly choked on the mouthful of beer, an incredulous expression on his face. “What?”

The woman turned her attention elsewhere and took a long drink of her water, avoiding the question by giving him an innocent smile and stepping away.

“Well, that’s all settled.” Verdandi jumped off the counter, dusting the seat of her pants off and tossing the phone on the table. “Clay will stop by the shop and double check everything until I get back.”

“Don’t trust your employees?” Dean quipped.

“I trust them but I got pulled here during a busy time and they tend to spread themselves thin.” She grabbed her beer and one of the kitchen chairs, swinging it around to sit. “He’s just going to go make sure Jason is handling everything and he hasn’t snapped and taken the pneumatic impact wrench to anyone’s face.”

Skuld cringed at the image and repressed a shiver. “That’s an uncomfortable mental image.”

Verdandi gave her sister an absent shrug and peeled the label off her bottle disapprovingly. “You can come up with interesting ways to harm people in a garage.” She flicked the bits of paper away, her tone eerily casual. “I once knew a guy who beat a man with a scissor jack handle just for looking at him funny.”

“You know a lot of violent people,” Skuld admitted. She was answered with a snort from the table before she settled her attention on the hunter. “Mind if I ask you a question, Dean?”

And uneasy feeling came over him, the innocent smile she gave him adding to it. “Do I have a choice?”

“When it comes to her, no,” Verdandi commented from the table. “She’ll just ask anyway.”

“You be quiet,” Skuld shot back, leveling a finger at her sister. “I’m talking to Dean.”

“Picky little bitch,” the older woman mumbled.

Skuld huffed and turned her back on her sister to focus on Dean. “I told Sam she’d take care of your car. I’m pretty sure he would have said something about that.”

“He did before I went outside,” Dean admitted.

Verdandi stripped the last of the label from her bottle and leaned back in her chair. “But that wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Skuld cocked her head slightly and frowned at the comment. “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t trust her,” Urd interrupted.

The three in the kitchen turned to the new voice at the door, Urd and Sam watching the conversation from the doorjamb.

“Of course it’s Verdandi and she’s threatened carjacking in the past so that’s understandable,” the blonde added.

Verdandi scowled when the pair entered, pushing at her beer bottle. “But I haven’t done it yet.”

The blonde rolled her eyes and moved over to the table, tossing the brown leather book they grabbed from Kim down in the center. “Yet is the operative word.”

“Learn anything from that?” Dean inquired.

“No, I just came to grace you with my presence and show off the damnable thing.” Urd waved her hand over the book with a smile. “Ta da!”

Dean scowled at the woman and glanced toward his brother. “Why isn’t she like this to you?”

“Because she likes me,” Sam offered as he sat at the table.

“And because you’re more fun to poke at.” Urd pulled one of the chairs out from the table and took a seat, running a hand through her hair. “Besides I’m not done with you for shooting me just yet.”

Dean stared at her coldly, an edge to his voice. “You hit me with a truck.”

“Technically that was Verdandi, not me,” Urd pointed out.

“You were still involved,” Dean argued.

Urd sighed heavily and rolled her neck, cringing at the loud pop that accompanied the action. “Yes but I wasn’t in the truck so I didn’t hit you with it.”

“Really? That’s your logic?” Dean asked, scowling at Urd. He was answered by a nod that made his jaw set. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Sam cleared his throat in an effort to get his brother’s attention off the blonde woman. “Dean.”

“Goddesses, as a whole, are capricious. We can love you one minute and throw off a cliff the next.” Skuld divulged. She leaned back against the dingy off color walls, waving her half empty water bottle at the goddesses seated around the table. “We are no exception.”

“Yup, we are all fickle bitches.” Verdandi sighed loudly and straightened in her seat, nodding toward the book. “Can we get on with the damn book?”

“Fine.” Urd’s mood grew serious as she looked at the light brown volume disdainfully. “That charming little tome, bound in human skin, is written in an early form of Elder Futhark runes.”

A strange frown crossed Dean and Skuld’s faces as Verdandi froze, her hand reaching for the innocent looking thing.

“Those runes actually may predate the Elder Futhark,” Urd added thoughtfully.

“Did you say human skin?” Skuld croaked.

Urd simply nodded.

Verdandi grabbed hold of the book and examined it, turning it over in her hands. “How do you know its…” Her question trailed off and her brows rose in a mixture of shock and disgust when she opened the book’s back cover. “Is that a nipple?”

Again Urd nodded her answer.

Skuld wretched and clapped her hands over her mouth. “So they filleted someone and made a book out of them?”

“It was probably some poor bastard killed in battle, maybe a monk or enemy soldier,” Urd pointed out. “But yes.”

The book was dropped faster than it was grabbed when Verdandi stood up from the table. “Why the hell do humans do that kind of crap?”

“So says the woman wearing half a dead cow,” Dean dryly commented.

Verdandi extended a red nailed hand and flipped Dean off but said nothing to him.

“It took a little longer to read the pages because it’s so early a form that the usual pronunciations don’t match the figures we’re used to seeing.” Urd explained, slowly opening the book. “It wasn’t so much translating as it was decoding.”

The pages made a crisp sound when they were turned, the musty smell of old ink wafting up from the yellowed parchment. Dark lines of brown colored ink drawn into intricate patterns were centered on each page and surrounded by large borders of off-white that created a stark contrast. Unlike other ancient books tucked away in libraries and private collections, these pages had no brightly colored borders circling the blocks of script. The few drawings that did adorn the pages looked like diagrams, crude little sketches of tools and talismans used for various effects.

The parchment rustled when Urd flipped through the pages, laying the book out flat. “It’s not the most thrilling read.”

“The translations she’s made so far are mostly minor prayers and instructions for making amulets,” Sam informed, holding up a small notepad.

“We don’t get into the heavy stuff until much later in the book.” Urd stopped at the center of volume, lifting it up to show the pages. “Starting with this.”

The same unreadable marks filled the page on the right, centered on the old parchment neatly. Sitting on the left page was an all too familiar drawing of a ring etched with the same symbols that filled the book; the same rings that sat on the trios’ necks.

“Now doesn’t that look familiar.” Verdandi grabbed at the collar around her neck, her nails tapping against the metal. “What does that book say about our ugly ass accessories.”

Urd looked at the woman standing across from her. “You’re in rare form today, aren’t you?”

The dark haired woman answered with a grin and a tiny shrug.

“Well, we already know they’re iron and, thanks to Dean and some bolt cutters, they are etched with runes like the drawing,” the blonde informed, turning the book around. A slender finger tapped against the writing covered page while she skimmed the parchment. “And they are one solid ring.”

“Besides that,” Verdandi commented evenly.

“Like anything to get them off us,” Skuld added.

Urd shook her head with a frown. “We’re still working on that part.”

Sam pointed to the page of runes, his tone apologetic. “It’s more difficult finding a spell that would break what that one did than it is for her to translate it.”

“Can’t we just take one from a book somewhere?” Skuld looked at Urd, becoming more animated. “You have gone through hundreds over the years. There has to be something you’ve come across with all those books.”

“I’ve come across a lot but I don’t recommend using them in this instance,” Urd replied calmly.

There was a genuine look of confusion on the youngest Fate’s face. “Why not? If they could get us free, why not use them.”

“Because they could also make things worse,” Dean informed.

Skuld’s shoulders sank in disappointment at the answer.

“Mixing magics is an iffy proposition. There is a chance one spell can cancel another out but there is also the chance they could do nothing, one could strengthen the other or they could combine to make something worse,” Urd explained.

Verdandi cleared her throat and pointed at the blonde seated at the table. “So why did you go on the spell book scavenger hunt”

“To see if I could figure out what she used on us,” Urd informed. She shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. “Sometimes humans get it right but all the books I went through were dead wrong.”

“No surprise there.” Verdandi walked across the kitchen, hopping up on the empty counter beside the sink. “Everything now-a-days is a pale comparison of the real Old Ways.”

Dean watched the dark haired woman dangle her feet innocently and glanced at the nearly empty beer bottle in his hand. “So is there a name to go with the book?”

Skuld rolled her eyes and began to pace the room. “Because a book that old is bound to have an author name on it.”

The pair at the table ignored the woman’s snide comment, Sam clearing his throat. “Not exactly but Urd has a pretty good idea who could have done it.”

Skuld’s pacing stopped at Sam’s comment and she turned toward the table. “Who?”

The book was closed and set gingerly in front of Urd, her arms resting in front of her. “A vӧlva.”

A snort of laughter from Dean made all three women give him an odd look. “Would you like me to show you on the doll where the bad man touched you?”

Urd hung her head with a groan. “Dean.”

“And you say I’m bad,” Verdandi quipped.

Sam gave his brother the mother of all scowls as he let out a huff and shook his head.

“What?” Dean protested. “She’s the one who said it.”

Urd took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Can I continue?”

Dean nodded and waved her on, composing himself slightly.

Urd briefly looked to Sam then back to Dean before speaking. “A vӧlva is a Norse shamanic seeress. Always a woman, they were well respected and often nomadic. Chiefs paid them very well for their services.”

“Are you sure it’s a vӧlva behind the book though?” Verdandi questioned, leaning forward slightly. “It couldn’t be one of their followers at all?”

“Their retinue were more advisors and assistants than followers,” Skuld chimed in. “Took care of the money, gathered needed items; that sort of thing.”

Verdandi shifted on the counter, her hands resting on the worn edge. “But the vӧlva didn’t write down spells.”

Dean’s snort of laughter repeated as he hung his head. “You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

The kitchen went silent as all eyes moved to the man, the confused and incredulous expressions of the trio mirrored in Sam’s.

“Did…” Skuld pursed her lips and looked deep in thought for a moment. “Did you just quote The Princess Bride to us?”

“What? That movie is a classic,” Dean defended.

Sam’s head cocked a tiny bit and his expression darkened. “You watched The Princess Bride?”

Dean reluctantly nodded and gave the group a scowl. “Andre the Giant was in it. That was the only reason.”

“Right,” Verdandi drawled with an amused smile.

His scowl deepened and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t judge me.”

Verdandi’s smile widened and her expression turned sultry. “So judging you, Winchester.”

“So this is a witch we’re talking about?” Sam questioned, turning away from Dean.

“Pretty much,” Verdandi answered with a shrug. “They were practicing a lot of different things.”

Dean, ego still stinging from his accidental confession, tried to seem unphased by his previous admission. “Most of the witches we’ve dealt with weren’t much of the god-chaining type.”

“You’ve obviously never dealt with the Norse,” Skuld muttered.

Verdandi sat back on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Probably a good thing. Some of them weren’t the friendliest.”

“These women were far from harmless. They performed human sacrifices, used various types of drugs in their “work”, and helped chieftains win wars for the right price.” Urd examined the book in front of her then pushed it away. “And I’m pretty sure making a book bound in human skin would be right up her alley.”

Sam reached out and grabbed the book, taking the chance to examine it. “How can you be sure it’s a woman?”

A proud smile lit Skuld’s face when she shifted her attention toward the taller man. “Because men were looked down upon if they practiced magic and spell craft. Some were even killed for it.” She rested her hands on her hips and gave the men a smile. “Magic and all its trappings were considered the role of women in Norse culture.”

“But the vӧl…” Urd trailed off and glanced at Dean with a shake of her head. “The seeress’ were mostly old women; ones who gave up the traditional bonds to family. That’s partly where you humans get the wise old woman stereotype.”

Sam looked up from the parchment. “What about their followers? Could one of them have written the book for her?”

“Possibly if they knew how to write,” the blonde answered thoughtfully. “Writing was a special talent back then.”

Dean stepped away from the counter and took a long look at the book in Sam’s hands. “So we have a dried up old hag, a bunch of groupies and Bjorn the spell book. Doesn’t explain how a psycho secretary got hold of that thing.”

“To be honest, they didn’t start out as hags,” Skuld admitted, grabbing a chair. “Like everything, they just got old.”

Sam closed the book and turned his attention to the white haired woman. “Did any of the retinue ever become a vӧlva?”

The women at the table said nothing as they thought, Verdandi shaking her head. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Dean crossed the kitchen, approaching Verdandi slowly. “You ever have run-ins with them? The witches and their followers?”

“We knew of them. Occasionally we were mistaken for them,” Verdandi replied evenly.

“Goddesses of fate who can change form and know their fair share of magic.” Dean shrugged, walking past the woman. “I have no idea why they would confuse you with them.”

Verdandi took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “As interesting as this line of conversation is, does anyone have any idea what she stands to gain by collaring us?”

The women seated at the beat-up table said nothing though it was clear Verdandi wasn’t the only one thinking the question.

“I mean she summons us, collars us and for what? A pile of bodies of people who pissed her off,” Verdandi continued, hopping from the counter. “What’s the use in that?”

“Psychos don’t generally need much of a reason to do anything,” Sam pointed out.

Skuld nodded in agreement, drawing invisible symbols on the tabletop. “Case in point: you.”

Verdandi froze and leveled a cold glare at her younger sibling. “I am a perfectly sane individual.”

Urd laughed and shook her head. “No you’re not.”

Verdandi clenched a fist when Urd smiled and looked up.

“Why does anyone pray to a god, Pagan or Christian?” Urd volunteered.

“For assistance,” Skuld answered with a shrug. “For some type of divine intervention.”

Urd nodded slowly. “And why do people generally pray to us?”

“To change their fate. Make things turn in their favor.” Verdandi rolled her eyes, waving off her own answer. “Like that’s our only purpose. We don’t even do that.”

“Humans don’t know that,” Skuld stated.

“And those that know us know better,” Urd added.

“So in some twisted way she summoned you for a type of murderous divine intervention.” Dean stepped up beside Verdandi, the woman turning her head to look at him. “That’s got to be a first.”

Skuld snickered and put her head down on the table. “You are so adorable to think that, Dean.”

Urd sat quietly staring at the book in front of her, resting her chin on her hand.

“We’ve had a couple humans pray to us to cut lives short before. Not exactly a new thing,” Verdandi admitted. She took an even breath, her eyes growing dark. “But this is the first time someone collared us.”

Skuld rested her head on her arm, innocent blue eyes looking up at Dean. “If you look back far enough in any historical timeline you can find a lot of people who end up doing that. Praying to the divine for blessings and looking for ways to gain favor, sometimes permanently.”

Sam examined the blonde beside him briefly before settling his attention on Skuld. “Did permanent ever happen?”

“Not really. There are some families we are friendly with but they aren’t blessed with wealth or anything.” Skuld sat up with a sigh, stretching. “They’re just lucky.”

Verdandi nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. “They always seem to avoid disaster or be the recipient of a rescue.”

“Controlling the destiny of the people yet having enough compassion to save a few along the way.” Dean grinned at the woman next to him. “Hard to imagine you being very compassionate.”

“Just like it’s hard to imagine you being very intelligent but somehow I manage.” Verdandi turned and brought a hand up to Dean’s cheek, smiling as she patted it gently. “But at least you have your looks to fall back on. For now that is.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the comment, mumbling under his breath when the woman walked away.

“You can bet we won’t be compassionate with Kim when this is over,” Skuld admitted.

The mood of the room grew serious as the brothers exchanged an uneasy look.

It was easy to watch the women and see them as just some annoying set of triplets the brothers had befriended. They acted like any other siblings would with the bickering and random pot shots at each other that ended in the occasional tongue being stuck out. Those times made for awkward moments when it became glaringly obvious how much alike Sam and Dean’s relationship was in comparison to the sister’s. They could be just as childish with each other, if not more, or even just as violent when things turned ugly.

But for each moment of humanity they showed there was always something that would bring their true nature back to light. Sometimes it was an action or a look but mostly it was a random comment. The words would manage to stir up a chill in the men even when spoken so simply. Something in their subconscious could hear the power hiding in each syllable and brought their minds back to the reality of the three women who looked so normal; they were gods who could end a life with no hesitation and turn the world into chaos.

“Oh no. We aren’t being compassionate to her. No way in hell,” Verdandi spat, balling up her fists.

“We’ll have to restore balance,” Skuld said softly.

“But first we have to get free,” Urd finally said. Her tone was eerily calm as she looked up from the book. “That’s the main thing.”

“So what do you suggest?” Dean questioned.

Verdandi looked at the man quizzically. “What?”

“We’re helping you so it’s not all about our plans,” Sam offered.

“And your ideas have worked so far.” Dean rolled his shoulders, feeling the bandage still against his back. “Although painfully.”

“Oh suck it up, princess.” Verdandi muttered, her eyes on Dean. “Be thankful you’re up on your feet.

Urd sighed deeply and pushed the book across the table. “Our plan it is then.” She tapped her index finger on the table near the book. “Skuld will work on the translation. I’ll show you the cipher I’ve put together so far.”

Skuld nodded and pulled the spell book closer, giving it a disdainful look.

“Verdandi, I want you to find out just how batshit crazy this broad really is. Go to the courthouse and see what you can find on her victims. Try public records first before going after anything sealed.” The blonde paused and gave her sister a long once over. “You may want to take the boys with you.”

The black haired woman’s jaw went slack and she glared at the older woman coldly. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t start. They can help you go through the names faster,” Urd countered, leveling a finger at her sister. “Besides, when was the last time you searched court records for people.”

“Last November when I hired James,” Verdandi replied.

“Besides arrest records,” Urd interjected.

Verdandi pursed her lips, her gaze still annoyed. “Touché.”

“So let them help with the names,” Urd said evenly.

Verdandi examined the men for a second before shrugging them off. “Fine.”

Skuld snorted back a laugh as she gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Sam. May I suggest you take your gun. For protection.”

“You shut up,” Verdandi growled.

Urd cleared her throat, her jaw setting. “If you don’t stop this crap, I will be the one to shoot you. Not them.”

The younger women went silent and a tiny grin pulled at Dean’s lips as Sam addressed the blonde. “What about you?”

“I’ll do what I’m best at, look into her family history. Maybe I can figure out how she got that damned book.” Urd combed her fingers through her hair, pushing the errant strands from her face. “It’s not like she could buy it at the local bookstore.”

“So we have a plan,” Skuld said cheerfully.

“Not sure how good it is,” Verdandi mumbled as she walked toward the door. “But hey, at least we have a plan.”

Skuld drummed her fingers against the book, listening to her elder sister’s disappearing footsteps echo through the empty house. “Yeah, you may want to take your gun just in case she gets uppity.”

“Don’t encourage them, Skuld,” Urd groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Okay. No guns.” Skuld bowed her head and studied the spell book for a moment. “A tazer.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

Verdandi looked up at the courthouse with a frown, sighing heavily from the backseat of the Impala. “Why did I get stuck with this part?”

Dean pulled the keys from the ignition and sat back against the leather bench seat. “You’d have to ask your sister on that one.”

“I hate courthouses and records and crap.” The frustrated groan she let out as she sank back into the seat made both men turn back to look at her. “It’s so boring.”

Sam shook his head at the scowling figure slouched in the backseat. “You would rather be the one back at the house translating the book?”

“That’s even worse,” Verdandi grumbled.

Dean climbed out of the car, his eyes traveling to the red brick courthouse. “You gonna whine like this the whole time were here?”

“Maybe.” Verdandi squinted against the sun as she exited the car, kicking the door shut behind her. “If I feel like it.”

Dean froze and glanced at the leather-clad woman, his eyes cold. “Don’t kick my car.”

Verdandi waved him off, the leather she wore protesting slightly when she leaned against the vehicle. “A couple smudges on the panel won’t hurt it.”

Dean balled up a fist but lowered it and bit back the death threat perched on the tip of his tongue.

Verdandi was even more infuriating then Urd, seeming to enjoy annoying him any way possible. The names and small digs at him were tiny inconveniences that could get a small rise out of him and she knew it. She seemed to take more amusement from goading him than any of her sisters. And her biggest rises out of him came from the car.

She took an almost perverse pleasure when it came to taunting him with the Impala. She didn’t even need to touch it to get a rise out of him. He knew she was baiting him for her own amusement but he couldn’t help but fall for it every time.

Sam made his way to the front of the car where Dean stood glaring, looking over the list of victim names to date. “We have twenty-four names to search so it’s going to take a while, even with three of us.”

“You mean two,” Dean corrected. He motioned toward Verdandi and scowled a bite in his voice. “I somehow doubt bitchy there is gonna help much.”

“Bitchy?” Verdandi pushed away from the car and strode toward Dean, raising an eyebrow. “If it was any other god you said that to, you’d be lucky to keep your head. Good thing for you that I take that as a compliment.”

Dean said nothing as he turned to look at the imposing brick building, avoiding her gaze.

Her eyes narrowed and she brought a hand up to his jaw, turning his face towards her. “So how about we get this job done so I don’t have to keep feeling like I’m babysitting you or that this is my sister’s version of a damned electronic tether. Okay, Dean-o?”

Dean scowled at her impromptu nickname, the scowl becoming a cringe as she applied pressure to his jaw.

“And I would seriously keep in mind just who you’re dealing with right now.” Her eyes locked with his, the blue giving way to a fiery yellow-orange swirl that sent a chill down his spine. “I’m not known for my restraint.”

His face paled and he swallowed back the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat.

The dangerous swirl faded back to the gentle blue the men had grown accustomed to but none of the sternness left her face. She kept her fingers pressed firmly against his lower jaw, her crimson nails adding tiny pin pricks of pain to the unrelenting pressure.

“Because, in case you’ve forgotten, once this damn collar is off I’ll be free to do what I want. Piss me off and the first thing I’ll do is come after you.” She let him go with a push against his jaw, watching him stagger backward. “Are we clear on that?”

Dean rubbed his jaw and gave her a small nod. “Crystal.”

“Good. So glad we had this little chat,” Verdandi growled. She turned on her heel and looked up at the building with a huff. “Now can we get this over with? Stupid record searches are going to take forever.”

Sam glanced at his brother before cautiously speaking up, keeping his distance from the goddess. “If the records have been computerized it shouldn’t take that long.”

Verdandi’s shoulders sank at the admission, the whine returning to her voice. “Oh yay. Computer searches. What fun.”

The men began walking toward the courthouse, giving the temperamental goddess a wide berth as they passed.

“Not a technology person, are you?” Dean questioned carefully.

“No.” She followed behind them slowly, her expression sour while she examined the building as though the very bricks had wronged her. “I hate computers. Stupid things always seem to crash.”

Dean stifled a chuckle and continued along the sidewalk. “I get the feeling you hate a lot of things.”

“I am selective.” Verdandi followed behind the pair, her pace deliberately slowing. “After a few hundred millennia, I’ve earned that right.”

The pair said nothing but exchanged an amused glance as they climbed the courthouse steps.

Verdandi looked up at the red brick building with a heavy sigh before trudging up the concrete stairs.

The courthouse was a relic of a bygone era when form was just as important as function. She had seen many buildings like it come and go over the years; the Victorian designs giving way to the ever changing and fickle styles humans dreamed up. And yet this two-and-a-half story building with its high rounded windows had managed to survive far longer than some of its contemporaries with its flagstone foundation and three-story clock tower intact. It had stayed up long enough to even garner a historical marker.

There were changes that time always brought to places like this though, modernizations that merged the old with the new. Gas lamps gave way to electric light and the march of progress went on with the now historic courthouse in tow. While updating a building kept it from becoming the target of a wrecking ball, the changes had been subtle enough to all but go unnoticed to most. And as long as places like this stood, the cycle of improvements would continue indefinitely.

“Hate to point this out but places like this won’t have much,” Verdandi grumbled, joining the brothers on the top step. “Unless they have a really large basement.”

“You just don’t have a positive outlook on anything, do you?” Sam asked, stopping at the large oak doors.

“If you saw half of the things I have, you’d be just as apathetic and negative. Maybe more.” She looked up at the taller man, stopping in front of him. “So yes, I am a jaded and negative bitch who could really care less about a great many things.”

“At least she’s honest,” Dean said flatly. “That’s a plus I guess.”

“Why would I be anything but honest? I mean come on.” She motioned toward the buildings and people across the courthouse square. “I don’t give two shits about this place. It’s a temporary annoyance. I never cared about this place before or even now. And I sure as hell won’t care about it later.”

Sam straightened at the candid admission, confusion clouding his features.

He had tried to prepare himself for dealing with Verdandi before they had even left the house, sizing her up as best he could. Her rough attitude toward Dean and stand-offish nature made her easily the least approachable of the triplets. He had taken up a very cautious stance to her as a result.

While he had prepared himself for the attitude and harsh personality of the woman, her apathy had caught him off guard. He had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that she would hold at least a tiny spark of compassion. Her admission and the bite in her voice had proven him wrong.

“How could you not care?” he questioned.

“How could I not care?” She laughed at the question and gave the young man an incredulous look. “Why should I care? I have watched your kind preach acceptance and love then turn around and kill each other over differing beliefs. You destroy your own history as if it means nothing and never learn anything from it.”

Sam shifted a little when she jabbed a finger in his chest.

“I have seen the absolute worst you do to one another and you ask why I don’t care. If you want a Fate who cares, then talk to one of my sisters,” she explained, backing away from the young man. “Because I am not like them.”

The goddess pulled open the large wooden door and left the pair standing on the courthouse steps.

“She’s a cheerful one, isn’t she?” Dean climbed the stairs and stopped beside Sam. “Remind me to thank Urd for this when we get back to the house.”

Sam stared at the door as his brother joined him on the landing, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean questioned.

“How could someone be so apathetic?” Sam muttered turning to Dean.

“If we were older than dirt, do you honestly think we’d care about much?” Dean motioned toward the doors with a shrug. “Besides, isn’t mythology filled with gods and goddesses being dicks anyway?”

Sam answered with a nod.

“Then that’s normal for her kind,” Dean grinned.

Sam gave the older man an unamused scowl and reached for the door handle. “Somehow I don’t think she’d find that funny.”

His fingers brushed the cool metal of the handle for a second before it swung into his arm. He stepped back when the door flew open and barely missed being hit in the chest by the edge of the wood. The quick step back to avoid the door sent Sam stumbling into Dean with a grunt and nearly knocked them both down the small flight of stairs.

It was no surprise when the men looked up and saw Verdandi on the other side of the door, hand pressed against the wood as she held it open.

“Are you two coming or what?” she snapped, drumming her fingers against the grain.

Sam straightened and glanced at his brother, grabbing the edge of the door.

“Get your asses in gear.” Her gaze traveled from one man to the other and pushed away from the door, sighing heavily. “I don’t want to be here all day.”

Dean let out a groan and proceeded inside, pausing next to Sam. “Oh yeah. A damn joy to work with. I’m gonna need a drink after this.”

Sam followed Dean inside with a heavy sigh, speaking just loud enough for the older man to hear. “Think it’s too late to join Urd?”

~*~

Urd wandered around the house on Pine Street with a critical eye, examining the various photos that dotted the rooms.

The genealogy research plan had hit a slight snag when she had reached the library and found the computers down for maintenance. Her hopes for a quick computer search had died with the words “closed for repairs” scrawled on the bright yellow poster board. It hadn’t been her only option for research but it was her preferred method among them. Her sisters would laugh at the clearly antiquated search method but she enjoyed the simple way of doing things that let her blend in with the humans.

The other option was a more hands on approach and far less enjoyable to her. It meant getting close to the one person she would rather not to find out about long forgotten history. It wouldn’t be the most difficult thing she had ever done, getting information from someone she absolutely hated, but it wasn’t without its challenges.

“Reading the thread” as her sisters affectionately called it was a lesser known skill that Urd had grown to have a love/hate relationship. Being Past she had the history of the world at her feet, the whole of it always pushing at her mind like some half remembered dream. Focusing on an event or date would make the memories become clearer. But it was the history of the world, not of any one individual or family. “Reading the thread” of a person brought all those clouded half-recalled bits of time into a clarity so sharp she could see every detail down to the smallest pebble. She could follow a single thread along a family line centuries and trace a family tree back countless generations.

It had come in handy over the centuries when researching anything or anyone was far more difficult than simply typing a name into a computer. When records were scarce and identities easily faked, a lying man could be discovered by simply reading his thread. There were certain drawbacks to the talent that Urd could do without, mostly the killer headaches that resulted from the act, but at least the information gathered was always true.

Urd stopped her impromptu tour of the house when she came across a photo of a young Kim hanging in the living room.

She couldn’t believe she had to do this. Dealing with the murderous bitch and her “jobs” was none of her choice and it annoyed her that she had to put up with Kim during her free time. But the part that made Urd truly bristle about all this was having to sort through all the minutiae of a mundane life. As if sorting through an unhinged woman’s family tree wasn’t enough to annoy her.

She flicked the image in the frame hard and scowled at the awkward kid who stared back.

Of all the people in the world she could read, she had ended up stuck with the psycho killer. It was true she had come across her fair share of psychopaths in the past but Kim was a special kind of crazy. Others wouldn’t have the guts to trap anything with the ability to destroy them on a whim much less use them as a weapon. And how the awkward brat in the photos became the cold-blooded murderer was anyone’s guess.

Urd wandered into the kitchen casually, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans.

The house wasn’t bad, the only blemish being its current occupant. It was actually quite cozy if she wanted to be honest. The rooms weren’t overly cluttered or too immaculate to touch, the furniture well used but not falling apart. The color scheme was a little too pale for her taste but that was just her opinion and said occupant surely didn’t share it.

She paused beside the kitchen’s center island, examining the hanging rack positioned above it.

One couldn’t help but wonder, after examining the house and its contents, how a secretary at an insurance agency could afford this. Urd doubted the woman made enough behind a desk to afford a payment on a house so big, rental or mortgage. The taxes alone would wipe out any money the woman may have saved up if she owned the property. If Kim was renting the house, the rent alone would leave the woman strapped for cash. And those realizations ultimately posed a rather ominous question: was there one more name for the ever growing list of Kim’s victims.

Urd wouldn’t be surprised if there was one more hapless soul added to the list. Kim wasn’t the most stable of people and angering the homely psychopath seemed as simple as taking a breath. That aspect made her extremely dangerous. One tiny misstep could send the woman into a murderous fit making no one safe. She was even willing to lash out at the goddesses under her control.

The blonde’s attention shifted to the pots and pans hanging above her head, reaching for a cast iron pan.

Maybe she was reading too much into everything. There was always another more reasonable explanation for things in her experience. But with what the trio had dealt with it wasn’t difficult to see the negative.

Her silent study of the weighty cookware came to an abrupt end with the opening of the front door.

Urd glanced over her shoulder at the sound of heavy footsteps and the unmistakable rustle of plastic bags. It was a fair enough warning to leave the kitchen for anyone but it was little more than a helpful suggestion to her. She set the pan gently on the island before quickly shifting into her bird form and stepping behind the edge of the counter.

Kim’s heavy footsteps made the floor seem to shake beneath the tiny feet, Urd peering around the corner of the island base.

Kim was too busy with the blue plastic bags to notice the little golden body that walked around the corner of the counter. The click of talons against linoleum was drown out by the running water in the sink and the crinkle of produce bags being set aside. Kim was too preoccupied in her own world to notice her unexpected guest beginning to change shape behind her.

For Kim that preoccupation would be the only mercy Urd would allow.

Urd took full advantage of the situation and moved behind Kim unseen. Her eyes locked in a cold glare on the woman while she shifted back into her human form, grabbing for the cast iron pan she had left on the counter. Her fingers wrapped around the handle tight enough to make her knuckles turn white and hefted it up like a medieval weapon. There was no hesitation on her part when she swung the pan and connected with the back of Kim’s head, the iron ringing with the strike.

Kim staggered forward and slumped against the sink for a moment before gravity pulled the unconscious body to the cold tile floor at Urd’s feet.

She looked down at the crumpled heap disdainfully with the pan still firmly gripped.

It would be so easy to kill the woman now. She could clearly see herself bashing the pan into Kim’s skull until all that would be left was a puddle. It would have been therapeutic to say the least but until they were sure they didn’t need Kim, she had to keep the woman alive. One hit was all she could do.

The pan was dropped with a resounding thud as Urd knelt down to check Kim’s pulse.

“Oh damn. I didn’t kill you,” she mumbled, dropping Kim’s hand to the floor. “I’ll just try harder next time.”

She stepped over Kim’s body and flexed a fist, her knuckles popping with each motion. Her eyes examined the motionless body once more before she held a hand out above her. Urd watched the tiny gold thread appear from Kim’s back and reach for her out-stretched palm.

Urd took a deep breath, letting the gossamer thread dance around her hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her hand clamped around the line and pulled, wrapping it around her palm. She wrenched the line up hard enough to make Kim’s body lurch off the tile and repositioned her hands to pull again, running her fingers along the line with each pull. One last pull dragged the woman off the floor and Urd froze, her eyes going wide.

Images flooded her head of Kim’s past, mundane and wholly unimportant for the most part. There was a brief image of a rehab facility that flashed through her mind, fairly close to the surface, that made Urd loosen her hold and stagger backward.

“You’re house sitting.” Urd blinked back the dull ache at her temple, shaking her head. “Not the question I wanted answered though. I want to know about that book.” She knelt down and grabbed Kim’s hair with her right hand, pulling her head back to look at the unconscious face. “So let’s dig a little deeper, shall we?”

Her eyes began glowing faintly when she tightened her hold on the thread, the images shifting from one family member to another. Unfamiliar faces began to merge with the history of the world as their lives drew parallels to events, years going backward with each new face. Urd’s knuckles turned white and the glow of her eyes became brighter, her body tensing while history played out in reverse.

American immigration blended into the daily life of a Scandinavian couple. The paths diverged and Urd’s focus shifted to the woman, following back to her childhood. The thread kept going backward and Urd’s focus again turned to another woman, the previous one’s mother. Each time the line would go back to childhood, the focus would shift to her mother and repeat. Generations moved in reverse along the maternal line past numerous historical moments and, on occasion, coinciding with them.

The further back Urd looked, the harder the feel of each individual life became. Daily life became more difficult for each woman in turn as progress marched backward. The small homes and farms eventually disappeared and a nomadic life came to light. Even the males became less prevalent. Marriages simply vanished, men only showing up at conception and disappearing directly after.

The pattern continued until the line reached an unlikely looking woman.

She was far younger than Urd remembered any vӧlva generally being. Her dark brown hair hung down to her mid-back and showed no signs of grey. There was the hint of an slender body type beneath the long linen tunic and brown wool cloak, the leather belt at her waist hanging low. She was plain by current standards but held herself with all the regality of a noble woman. The amulet and brooch she wore were old yet familiar designs to Urd, the intricate woven patterns a common sight on many Norse items. She carried other items that Urd recognized, pouches and talismans from an age when a woman could make a small fortune plying the magic arts.

She appeared around the 2nd century in one of the many Northern Germanic tribes dotting the European continent at the time. Hadrian’s Wall was three years from completion as she traveled the lands that would become Norway and Sweden. It would be six centuries before the Viking Age arrived and brought a fear of long ships and violent raids. The Norse gods still held sway over the land and Christianization was all but unknown to the tribes of the north.

The trio’s dealings with the Northern tribes had been many at that time. Tribal leaders would invoke them to curry favor in battle alongside the likes of Thor and Freya while midwives would pray to them for blessings on newborns. It wasn’t uncommon to find one, if not all three of them, milling around a village for one reason or another, though most times it was to see what the humans were doing.

The dealings with the vӧlva though were not as simple as the interactions with others. Each woman they had come across had cut an odd cross section of the wandering seers; the meetings more shadow and secrecy than the simple act of prayer that most villagers did. The older women would treat the trio with the utmost respect while the novice practitioners with much to learn seemed unsure in their approaches. Some were soft spoken, a trait that always seemed to annoy Verdandi more so than Urd, while others were too outspoken for their own good. Then there were the vӧlva who acted as though they themselves were gods, what little power they held going to their heads. The trio hated those ones the most.

Urd’s jaw set and she tightened her grip on the thread, focusing on the woman in question.

The woman had to be the sternest looking human Urd had ever seen. The scowl that occupied the oval shaped face seemed permanently etched on the pale skin, the soft pink lips drawn thin. Her hazel eyes gazed coldly from beneath stray strands of brown hair and out across the windswept plain, the chill North wind biting at the high cheekbones and muted jaw line. The harsh expression didn’t waiver and only seemed to grow colder as the winds continued to whip the tall grasses around her, pushing the dark hair from her wide forehead and reddening the tip of her slender nose.

The more Urd examined the woman, the more a sense of familiarity began to creep into her mind.

She remembered faces; that was one of the negatives of being Past. She could see the countless men, women, and children when she followed threads or focused on any certain event. When it was her own history the faces had a habit of standing out, much as this woman’s was beginning to stand out to Urd.

The electric blue glow in the goddess’s eyes stayed steady as her head cocked to the left and her eyes narrowed. “Why do you look so familiar?”

With the woman in focus, Urd turned her attention to her surroundings.

The flat plain she stood on was largely indistinguishable from any other area in the world, the tall grasses and random patches of wild flowers giving no hint of just where she was. There were no outcroppings of rocks or stands of trees, no paths or roads of any kind to point to a nearby settlement, just the ever stretching plain around her. True there were vast areas of untouched land given the timeframe, but seldom did anyone travel across them alone. Usually it was a band of hunters or a trading caravan moving from settlement to settlement that frequented the flat lands, not prophetic seers.

Urd watched the scene with a growing distrust as the woman knelt down to pick up a staff laying at her feet.

There was something unsettlingly familiar about all of this; something the goddess couldn’t fully place. She could still only get a vague impression of recognition from the woman who stood alone on the plain as though waiting for something. It was like some half remembered dream that slowly turned into a nightmare. The vague impression started to sour and a feeling of anger began rise up in the pit of her stomach as history played out around her.

_The woman remained silent as the clear twilight sky above began to cloud, the dark grey blanket roiling like an unsure sea and hiding the stars. The winds grew stronger and the clouds flashed, their shapes outlined for the briefest moment before falling dark once more. There was a distant rumble of thunder behind the lightning that danced along the cloud cover in every direction. The arcs of silver white light began to grow more frequent until the sky above practically glowed from the reaching jagged tendrils crisscrossing the sky._

_The billows swirled ominously above the empty plain while the lightning bolts converged, a thick column of grey starting a slow decent. With each turn of the dark grey pillar more of the haze hiding the stars seemed to disappear within, the once ghostly form becoming solid. Thunder roared from above unbroken and the wind screamed its own deafening chorus as the pillar touched down, the earth protesting the connection with the sharp sound of rock breaking. The ground trembled and buckled when the column’s base spread and took root, the lightning wrapping around it like silver-white ivy._

Urd smiled at the long absent yet always familiar sight, the violent tempest finally dying. “Yggdrasil.”

_The tree that now occupied the formerly vacant area was an impressive sight. Its dark trunk swirled as massive branches reached upward, the stars above forming its billions of leaves. Long limbs stretched high and disappeared in all directions with no distinct end to any of them._

_The woman stared up at the tree calmly as she leaned against the staff she carried._

_Any other human would have looked on in awe at the tree in front of them but there was no hint of anything in the woman’s face. She did little more than regard it with a passing interest. It almost seemed as though she was expecting it, as though the swirling trunk and never ending branches were common place._

_Urd watched the woman hold her ground unphased when the tree shifted and creaked loudly, a bolt of lightning blinding the world momentarily as it struck the soil at the base. The strong smell of ozone hung in the air along with the scent of burnt earth, the brilliant light fading to reveal the trio._

_The women stood side-by-side near the trunk, the swirling greys of the tree bark silhouetting the sisters. They were dressed in simple linen dresses with leather belts cinched at their waists and cloaks of black, red and white hanging down around their shoulders. The hoods they wore were pushed back from their faces enough to show the tiny wisps of hair at their temples, the three distinct colors visible in the dimming light._

_The woman with the staff slowly approached the trio and bowed low, respect in her voice. “Blessed Norns, I bid you welcome.”_

Urd’s eyes narrowed as her past self pushed her black hood back.

_“A human in the middle of nowhere greeting us,” Skuld muttered, the white of her hair practically blending with the white of her cloak._

_Verdandi’s eyebrow rose as she examined the woman standing in front of them. “And one who seems too familiar with our kind.”_

_The woman straightened as Urd approached, the black cloak falling back over her shoulders. “You are no normal human.”_

_“I am Gerda, a seer, and I ask for your aid,” the woman stated._

Urd huffed at the name and watched her former self turn away from the human.

_“We aid no one simply because they ask us,” Skuld spoke up._

_Gerda kept a watchful eye on Urd as she rejoined her sisters at the base of Yggdrasil, motioning toward the tall grasses at her left. “I bring an offering.”_

Urd’s heart sank at the words, history continuing to play out with horrifying clarity.

_“An offering?” Verdandi stepped forward as the tree shifted behind her sisters, the deep red of her cloak making her skin seem paler. “Did you think we would help you if you gave us an offering? That we would simply look upon that as payment of some sort?”_

_Gerda brought a hand up defensively, Urd and Skuld watching from the base of the tree. “I mean no disrespect.”_

_Urd placed a hand on the tree trunk, the bark swirling at the contact. “Offerings and small trinkets do not work to curry our favor.”_

_Oh but let us hear what this young seer wishes aid with,” Verdandi offered, the tone of her voice biting. She cocked her head to one side and looked Gerda over with a dangerous smile. “What is so important that you need to petition us?”_

_The woman took an even breath remaining calm when Verdandi began to slowly circle her. “Arrgeirr Thorvardrson has asked for aid to assure victory in a coming battle.”_

_“Never heard of him,” Verdandi muttered, stopping in front of Gerda. “And I know a lot of names.”_

_“Politics, sister,” Urd called, resting her back against the tree. “That is all these humans care about.”_

_Verdandi frowned, shrugging. “No wonder. I do not care about your politics.”_

_Gerda took a deep breath and watched Verdandi make her way toward the tall grasses._

_From the base of the tree Urd watched Gerda, keeping her back against the swirling bark. “Why should we help you? Your offering aside, why should we help you?”_

_“Arrgeirr is a drott of a small settlement which has been raided…” the woman began._

_“That is not what I asked.” The blonde’s voice echoed around Gerda like a thunderclap, Yggdrasil groaning loudly above them. “I do not care about a warlord and his plans of retaliation. Why should we help you?”_

_The goddess let her attention shift from her younger self to Verdandi kneeling in the tall grasses, the normally stoic face of her sister growing stern as she motioned for Skuld to join her._

_“You are the Norns. You are the shapers of destiny for men and gods.” Gerda cautiously stepped forward, passing Verdandi. “One of your children asked for help and you would turn them away?”_

_Urd pushed herself away from the tree, shaking her head with a laugh._

_“Why do you laugh?” Gerda questioned._

_“Because you are not one of my children, human,” Urd answered. She let her gaze move to Skuld as her youngest sister joined Verdandi. “I will not help you.”_

_Gerda drew up to her full height, her expression darkening. “Why?”_

_“You pray to us for favor in battles we do not care about for men we do not know; warlords and warriors who mean nothing to us. Others pray for healthy children, bountiful crops and luck for their families.” Urd folded her hands in front of her and walked toward the woman who stared defiantly at her. “I would rather aid the peaceful than the power hungry.”_

_Gerda looked as though the goddess had struck her with a club, glaring at the slender figure who moved toward her._

_“Warlords come and go. Their power and title can be taken by the simple actions of an ambitious man and a handful of soldiers willing to spill blood in his name,” Urd explained. She walked past the woman toward her sisters. “Offering or no, warlords make their own destiny regardless of what we do.”_

_The woman scowled and tightened her grip on her staff. “Then I will make you give your favor to Arrgeirr.”_

_Urd stopped and turned back to look at the woman, the sky above them flashing briefly._

_Gerda kept her expression stern and stood calmly, saying nothing when the goddess approached._

_“You are young for a seer but I did not take you for stupid. Not until you said that,” urd muttered._

_Verdandi and Skuld watched from the high grasses quietly for a moment before Verdandi finally spoke up. “Urd.”_

_The blonde leveled one last harsh glare at the woman before shifting her attention to her sisters._

_Verdandi motioned for her sister to join her, glancing toward the human coldly._

_“What?”Urd questioned._

_“Her ‘offering’, sister,” Verdandi replied flatly._

_Urd straightened, her brow furrowing as she stepped away._

_Verdandi moved back from the spot in the tall grass and glared hard at the woman. “That is your offering? That makes you think we would help you?”_

_Skuld remained knealing as Urd drew near, humming softly while she ran a gentle hand over the back of a young boy._

_The child looked about two years old, his little body smudged with dirt and stained by blood. His clothing was little more than an oversized tunic that was probably the child’s bedclothes. He had a head of scraggily looking brown hair that was matted in parts by patches of blood and dirt, tiny ringlets of brown clinging to his neck and cheek as though they were glued in place. The poor child appeared emaciated and barely moved, his breathing harsh as he rested on the goddess’s lap._

_Skuld looked up from the boy when Urd stopped beside her, keeping her hand on the boys back. “He’s alive.”_

_Urd’s expression clouded as she looked at the boy, her jaw setting._

_“We do not respond to sacrifices,” Verdandi hissed._

_Gerda watched the women quietly but kept her distance._

_“Where did you get him?” Urd questioned._

_“He has no family if that is what you are wondering,” Gerda replied._

_Verdandi leveled an angry finger at the woman, her tone harsh. “She asked you a question, human. Now answer her.”_

_“Where did you get him?” Urd repeated. She looked toward the woman, her voice cold. “Where did you get this child?”_

_Gerda said nothing as the pair started toward her, Skuld standing behind the two women with the boy in her arms._

_“Did you truly believe presenting a small child to us, bloody and emaciated as though he was a lamb to slaughter, would gain our favor?” Urd glared at the woman, the sky above flashing briefly. “That offering him as a sacrifice to us would grant you our assistance what-so-ever?”_

_The winds picked up once more and Yggdrasil groaned loudly, its branches shifting high above._

_“You are asked a question and you say nothing yet you demand action of us. We refuse and you threaten us. You forget your place, human.” Urd stopped in front of the woman, her expression unreadable, as she looked her in the eyes. “Now answer me. Where did you get that boy?”_

_“His mother was a member of my retinue. She took ill and died during the winter leaving the boy in my care,” Gerda finally answered._

_“Your care?” Skuld practically shrieked, holding the child close. “He is filthy and far too skinny. I can easily count his ribs simply by touching his side.”_

_Urd kept her gaze trained on the woman while her youngest sister spoke, a dangerous glint in her eyes._

_“He has cuts, both new and old, on his body as though you have bled him. His skin is still stained from a wound on his arm,” the white haired goddess continued. “A fresh wound no less.”_

_“You bled a small child?” Verdandi spat._

_The woman tightened her grip on her staff, keeping her head high and her gaze on the trio._

_“Is that what you call care? I have seen horses treated better than this child,” Skuld snapped, walking to the tree with the boy in her arms. “He’s been treated worse than vermin.”_

_“The boy served his purpose,” Gerda muttered. She waved off Skuld’s remarks as though they were nothing, her eyes growing cold “I care not if he lives or dies now.”_

_Urd’s hand darted out and latched on to the woman’s throat hard. “Served his purpose?”_

_Panic washed over Gerda’s features as she was lifted from the ground, gasping for breath. She clawed at the fingers that squeezed tight around her neck and searched the blonde’s face for the smallest hint of mercy. Her panic grew when the blue eyes turned an angry orange-red, the pale skin around them turning a dark grey and cracking like worn stone._

_“You are little more than an insect to us, so small and insignificant it would be nothing to us to crush you. I highly doubt you have even a shred of concern in you for anyone but yourself given your actions.” The gray that wreathed her eyes began to slowly creep across her face, the smooth skin beginning to resemble a volcanic landscape as it spread. “To us, you are nothing just as that boy is nothing to you.”_

_Gerda choked for breath as Urd swung her arm back and slammed her hard into the ground._

_“You should worry about that child.” Urd brought her lips to Gerda’s ear, keeping her pinned to the ground. “Because if he dies from what you have done to him, there will be no place in this world you can hide from us.”_

_Her grip let up just enough to keep the woman from passing out, easily keeping her pinned._

_“He is one of my children. Those you look down upon are my children,” Urd hissed, glaring at the woman. “You would do well to remember that in the future.”_

_Urd’s grip on the woman’s throat released and she stood, walking away from the prone figure._

_“You cannot turn your back to me,” Gerda stammered as she slowly got to her feet. “I called you here for assistance.”_

_Verdandi shook her head with a laugh, waving the woman off. “We do as we wish, not as you say.”_

_“Tell Arrgeirr to make his own luck,” Urd called over her shoulder. “The Norns will not help him.”_

_The scowl on Gerda’s face as the two women walked away bordered on pure hatred, her hands balled up in tight fists. Her eyes held a dangerous glint that sparked like fire with each flash of lightning that lit the sky above them. Her mouth was little more than a harsh line set against her pale skin, skin that appeared more flushed than it had been previously. Her body practically shook with anger toward the women whose backs were to her, ignoring her in favor of a child that had no use in the world._

_Her temper seemed to snap and her hand shot to the knife at her belt, throwing the blade at the back of the blonde’s head._

_The reaction was immediate, Urd turning and grabbing the knife from mid-air before it struck her. A quick flick of her wrist sent the knife flying back to strike the woman in the lower shoulder, missing her arteries but bringing maximum pain. She would live but she’d feel the pain of the wound for a long time to come._

_“That was incredibly stupid,” Urd muttered, clenching a fist._

_Gerda let out a cry as her hand moved to the bleeding wound, doubling over at the pain._

_“If you are trying to make me kill you, you are doing an excellent job.” Urd glared at the woman but kept her distance, folding her hands in front of her. “You seem to have a skill for annoying gods.”_

_Verdandi took a step toward the injured woman but stopped when Urd brought a hand up. “Sister?”_

_“Go help Skuld with the boy,” the blonde ordered. Her gaze remained trained on Gerda, a chilling bite to her words. “I will be along very shortly.”_

_With one last glare toward the human, the black-haired goddess retreated for the tree and the figure standing at its base._

_Urd stood motionless as she waited for Verdandi to leave before finally approaching the woman._

_“If any other human had done that, I would have aimed a little higher and sent that blade through your skull,” she said evenly._

_Gerda glared at the goddess, the pain in her arm making her breathing harsh._

_“But killing you is a waste of my time and energy,” Urd hissed, grabbing the knife handle and twisting the blade slowly. “And it would not teach you anything.”_

_The woman cried out at the new round of sharp pain that shot through her shoulder and down her arm, falling to her knees._

_“Humility and respect seem to be your weak points, which is odd for one of your kind.” The goddess pushed her back into the grass using the knife, her face unreadable. “Which makes one wonder if you learned them at all.”_

_The color had drained from Gerda’s face, gasping for a breath that wouldn’t come as she knelt in the grasses._

_“Gods are not your servants. We do as we wish and not what you say.” The blonde’s grip on the dagger loosened, her eyes cold. “Pray to us, ask for our aid but never presumed to order us.”_

_The woman looked up at the goddess above her, clutching at the blade still in her shoulder. “This is how you teach humility and respect?”_

_Urd’s mouth twisted into a wicked smile as she straightened, shaking her head. “This is how I get your attention.”_

_Gerda’s focus shifted to the knife still in her shoulder and the thin trail of blood creeping down her arm._

_“Oddly enough pain seems to be the only way to get your kind to pay attention. Even then it is fleeting at best.” The blonde shrugged absently and regarded the woman at her feet with distain. “It is a wonder your kind has lasted this long.”_

_Gerda groaned as the throbbing pain shot through her shoulder, the goddess above her watching with little more than a passing concern._

_“You act as though the world should tremble at your feet, that any and all who lay eyes upon you should bow to your every whim. What little power you have you use to lord over others. You forget your place.” She crossed her arms over her chest and let her gaze move across the plain behind the woman. “You are not a god, no matter how badly you want to be one.”_

_The woman glared up at the blonde but held her tongue._

_“You will go back to Arrgeirr and he will realize the true extent of your abilities and you will learn humility.” Urd let her gaze move back to the woman as if she were little more than an afterthought. “And when news of your shortcomings spreads, you will learn respect."_

_Her jaw set and she remained in the grass, saying nothing as a breeze began to pick up._

_“And, hopefully, these lessons will not be forgotten,” Urd commented before she turned and walked away._

_This time Gerda did nothing but watch the retreating figure. Anger was etched into her features but she simply remained silent, her hand firmly clasped over the still bleeding wound. The pain that radiated along her shoulder and down her arm was enough of a warning for her to do nothing against the goddess._

_“If I were you, I would treat that wound as soon as you can. Dagger wounds have a habit of festering and we would not want you to lose a limb,” Urd called over shoulder._

_Gerda watched the bark of the tree trunk begin to fade when the woman approached it, the branches above shifting to fill the sky. The breeze grew stronger and brought with it the sharp scent of a coming rain and a noticeable chill. With a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder the cloud laden sky opened u in a downpour that practically obscured the woman walking away. The further she went the more faded her silhouette became until she disappeared into nothing, the massive tree vanishing with her._

_The rain continued unabated, the sky above flashing bright with each lightning bolt as Gerda slowly got to her feet._

_Her scowl seemed permanently etched on her face, the cold glint in her eyes bordering on murderous. The driving rain soaked her to the skin and ran red down her arm as she stood alone in the whipping grasses. Her gaze moved from the spot where the tree had been to the dagger still seated in her shoulder before pulling it out and dropping it disdainfully at her feet._

_“I will make you obey me,” she hissed, clutching a hand over her wound. “You and all your kind.”_

Urd’s hand let go of Kim’s thread and she collapsed against the cabinets, taking a deep and even breath. Her head throbbed and the pain that now caused stars to appear in her vision made her honestly wonder if her head would explode. She groaned and pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead in an attempt to push the pain back.

“Son of a bitch.” The goddess’ voice was little more than a rough sounding growl, discomfort twisting her face into a grimace. “Can’t I just skip this part for once?”

She reached for the counter above her and pulled herself to her feet, leaning against the granite surface.

The stone was cool against her hands, slowly warming as she stood with her head bowed and her eyes closed. She focused on Kim’s steady breathing at her feet and waited for the worst of the pain to pass before opening her eyes. She let out a slow breath and straightened, combing her fingers through her hair.

Her gaze, cold and chillingly calm, shifted to the body at her feet.

She had a new found hatred for the woman at her feet, one that bordered on abhorrence. It was just a hatred for the woman unconscious on the floor, it was for every member of her line that had carried the book. It was a culmination of months of frustration and hundreds of years of loathing for a woman far distant from the present; one who may have been long dead yet still had a hand in the trio’s current situation.

Urd stepped over Kim’s body and over to the still running sink, splashing some cold water on her face. A roll of her shoulders and a deep sigh accompanied the squeak of the tap being shut off before she turned around. She leaned back against the counter and took in the modern surroundings as if for the first time, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to dry her face.

Tossing the towel aside she knelt down to examine Kim’s unconscious form.

“Amazing how crazy can span two millennia so easily,” Urd murmured, pulling Kim’s head up by the hair. “It just finds a new package.” She dropped the woman’s head back to the floor and rose to her feet, wiping her hand on the leg of her jeans. “And a greasy, homely ass package at that.”

She took one last look around the kitchen before making her way to the door and leaving Kim sprawled out on the linoleum where she had fallen.

It was not concern of hers how long the woman would be there or if anyone would find her before she came to. She had no intention what-so-ever of being around when the woman did, eventually, wake up. As much as she would love to see how badly Kim would be hurting from the cast-iron love tap, she had better things to do with her time.


	24. Chapter 24

Skuld sat back in her chair, putting her feet up on the living room table with a heavy sigh.

She had been working on the spellbook since the others had left, translating page after page of the old runes as she made her way through each ritual. The further she had gotten into the gruesome little book, the easier it became to read the figures on the pages. It hadn’t taken long for her to forego the translation key Urd had left and simply translated from memory. She was sure she’d see little stick figures dancing around her head if she closed her eyes at this point.

She popped her neck with a roll of her head and let her gaze settle on the nasty little book in question.

To anyone else it was just another leather bound book filled with odd symbols, innocuous and easily overlooked. It could have sat on a shelf in an antique store or used book seller for years and not garnered one interested glance from anyone until Kim found it. Nothing about it really stood out as evil; not that many books screamed evil in the first place.

Skuld straightened and dropped her feet on the weathered hardwood floor with a resounding thud that seemed to echo through the empty house. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the book before poking its spine with the cap of her pen.

She had wondered what would possess someone to make something so dark a number of times while translating. At first a feeling of unease had come from the book’s unorthodox covering and the thought that it had once been a living, breathing human. Page by page the unease turned to an uncomfortable question pushing incessantly at the back of her mind, growing louder as she pressed on. Amid the pages of deadly herbs and poisons, when the words made by the dancing figures turned grim, it appeared as a whisper: _what kind of mind would create this?_

Each page grew darker, every entry becoming progressively more sinister. Poisons and their grisly effects gave way to rituals and a myriad of situations that called for their use. Rites requiring any type of sacrifice began to change their tone, moving from fast acting poisons to ones made to cause a lingering death. Soon enough the poisons turned to bleeding the chosen victim, usually by slicing their throats. And still the question grew louder: _who would create these?_

The deeper Skuld’s translation delved, the more ghastly the entries became. Animal sacrifices became human sacrifices, almost as though the use of an animal wasn’t a fitting enough tribute. When the animals disappeared from the text the methods changed again as did the author’s mindset. And the question in Skuld’s mind grew ever louder.

She was used to the occasional sacrifice, for a good portion of the trio’s early human dealings it was actually common to come across a goat or a sheep offered to them. She even knew of other gods who received human offerings but those were never overly violent save for the ones from South America. The rituals detailed in the book weren’t the usual bog body to ensure a good harvest; they were much more savage.

By the time she reached the later pages, the questioning voice in Skuld’s mind was practically screaming warnings. If there was any doubt in her mind about the sanity of the author, it would have easily been silenced. This was clearly not a stable person by any means. And while it sounded harsh, a part of Skuld was glad the author was dead.

The rites and spells had become little more than convenient excuses for murder in her mind, the detailed entries on blood magic turning her stomach. It wasn’t unheard of for practitioners to go to certain lengths with blood magic rituals; mostly it involved using the blood like body paint and dancing around a fire while on various psychotropic plants. But this was beyond a handful of magic mushrooms and an impromptu bonfire dance.

Skuld had never come across a ritual that called for the consumption of a human heart straight from the sacrifice’s chest. The way it had appeared in the book had her half expecting to stumble upon a rough wording of “make sure it’s still beating” in the symbols. For a Norse sorceress, the bout of cannibalism was odd. Hannibal Lecter would have been proud.

She eyed the nasty little volume warily and pushed it toward the center of the table before she got to her feet, putting some distance between herself and the creepy tome.

She wandered into the kitchen, her shoes scuffing the faded linoleum floor as she moved to the mini fridge. The unease was still weighing heavy on her as she opened the tiny door and peered inside, grabbing a bottle of beer from the back. The cap came off with a satisfying hiss, the bottle cool against her lips as she drank.

Her posture relaxed and she let the bitter amber liquid trickle down her throat, waiting for the ever so slight buzz to dull her uneasy nerves. Halfway through her beer she was more relaxed than she had felt in months. And while she knew the feeling was fleeting, at least it was a small comfort.

She was studying the bottle and steeling her nerve to return to the book when she heard the familiar rumble of the Impala engine outside. She sighed and took another drink before heading out the rear mudroom door to greet her sister and the boys, relief washing over her. At least she didn’t have to be alone with the book.

The rumble of the engine was replaced by the crunch of gravel bits beneath the goddess’ shoes when she stepped off the back steps, the loud squeak of the doors echoing through the garage. “You get kicked out?”

“No.” Verdandi leveled a cold glare at her sibling as she climbed out of the backseat, her expression sour. “Shouldn’t you be translating a creepy book right now?”

The snowy haired goddess huffed and let her sister pass by, absently picking at the label of the bottle still in her hands. “I’m taking a break.”

“Well then so am I.” Verdandi strode toward the mudroom door, her footsteps echoing against the wood floor. “I need a drink.”

“Well, isn’t she cheerful,” Skuld mumbled, drumming her fingers against the glass bottle. “She makes a pit viper seem cuddly.”

Dean climbed out of the driver’s seat with a chuckle, his door squeaking loudly before closing. “I think she’s upset she couldn’t punch anyone.”

“Poor baby.” Skuld looked after her sister, shaking her head. “She is a simple woman with simple, violent pleasures.”

“She’s scary is what she is,” Dean mumbled, moving toward the mudroom door.

Skuld nodded her agreement, hearing Sam approach from the passenger side of the car. “No argument here.”

“How’s the translation going?” Sam questioned, stopping beside Skuld.

The woman visibly cringed before giving Sam an awkward smile and walking inside. “It’s going.”

Sam followed the woman into the house and set his messenger bag on the kitchen table. “That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

Skuld finished the remainder of the beer in her bottle and tossed it in the sink. “Nearly done but it’s an unsettling read. How did the search go?”

Sam flipped open his bag and pulled out a large manila folder. “Found some information but we aren’t sure how helpful it all is.”

The young woman pulled a chair from the table and took a seat, eying the folder in front of her. “Shame how a person’s life can be boiled down to a handful of papers.”

“Out of twenty-five names, we managed to find connections, or possible connections, to all but one.” Sam set the folder on the table and returned to digging through his bag. “Some of those seem like a reach though.”

“And no real stand out motive among them either,” Dean added from his seat on the far counter. “Which makes our morning of dealing with Verdandi that much more of a waste.”

Skuld pulled the folder to her, leafing through the papers inside briefly. “Who knows why that psycho chose them; we just took them out for her.”

Sam looked up at her comment, watching her pick through the stack.

“These poor people,” Skuld mumbled, reading one of the papers. “It wasn’t their time. None of them.”

Sam regarded the goddess calmly as he closed his bag, resting his hands on the table. “It’s not your fault.”

She gave him a kind smile, gathering the papers together before pushing the folder back to Sam. “You’re very sweet, Sam. But we were the ones to kill them.”

“Against your will,” Sam pointed out.

“But we still killed them.” She folded her hands in front of her, her voice soft. “There is no getting around that.”

Sam shook his head at the almost serene look on her face. He wasn’t going to win any fight against her and he knew it; it was safer to just give in. He threw his hands up and took the leather bag from the table. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Smart man,” Skuld chuckled.

He picked the folder up and turned to his brother, waving toward the kitchen door. “I’m gonna start sorting through these.”

Dean replied with a nod and watched his brother leave, his attention turning to the goddess still seated at the table. “He’s right, you know.”

“And so am I.” Skuld let her fingers trace the grain of the table absently. “As much as I hate to admit it.”

The sound of footsteps outside the kitchen door barely pulled the goddess’ attention from the papers; Sam’s muffled voice wafting down the hallway. The quiet of the kitchen waivered when Verdandi’s voice came through the wood in a muffled answer to him, her tone clipped. It disappeared completely with a loud creak as Verdandi walked in and threw her empty bottle in the sink.

“Has Urd shown up yet?” the dark haired woman grumbled.

Skuld straightened in her chair and shook her head, glancing up toward her sister. “Not yet.”

The growl Verdandi let out was more angry than annoyed. “How long does her type of research take?”

“As long as it takes to get what she needs,” Skuld answered. She glanced toward Dean and rose from her seat, pausing briefly to look at her sister. “Unless she’s reading the thread.”

“Like she’d do that. She hates doing that,” Verdandi countered.

Skuld shrugged and disappeared through the kitchen door with Verdandi and a confused looking Dean following.

“It doesn’t mean she won’t read a line if she needs to,” Skuld admitted.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Dean commented.

Verdandi shook her head and walked toward the old couch while Skuld returned to the paper littered table with a heavy sigh. “Not missing much. It’s just a little trick Urd can do with a living person’s life thread.”

“It’s not a trick, it’s a skill, and she doesn’t like doing it if she can help it,” Skuld corrected. She pushed her hair back away from her face and had a seat once more at the cluttered living room table with a disgusted sigh. “I really hate this translation thing.”

“You could have been digging through files in a courthouse basement.” Verdandi threw herself down on the sheet covered couch, putting her feet up. “A book is easy.”

“Most books aren’t written in an ancient alphabet and bound in human skin,” Skuld grumbled.

Verdandi rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever.”

Skuld’s eyebrow rose as she watched the dark-haired woman lounge on the couch, frowning. “You are such a joy to be around, you know that?”

“I try,” Verdandi yawned, closing her eyes.

The younger woman’s jaw set and her gaze turned cold, taking a slow, deep breath.

Dean joined Skuld at the table and positioned himself between the two sisters in an effort to defuse the growing tension. “So this skill of Urd’s, what is it?”

Skuld seemed to relax when Dean questioned her, the cold gaze warming when it landed on him. Her stiff posture eased and she gave him a serene smile. She was a completely different person when she wasn’t focused on her sister.

“It’s not really that easy to explain but it’s an ability to pull apart a person’s life thread and see into their ancestor’s past,” she began. She paused briefly, pursing her lips as she thought. “Takes a lot of concentration on her part.”

Dean frowned and his eyes narrowed, the tone of his voice uncertain. “I thought she couldn’t read a dead person’s thread?”

“She can’t. Once a person dies, their thread ceases to exist,” Skuld admitted.

The groan that erupted from Verdandi made Dean cringe. “You’re going to confuse him.”

Skuld straightened in her seat but ignored her sister’s comment. “The closest thing I can compare it to is DNA.”

“Now you’re really going to confuse him,” Verdandi grumbled, draping an arm over her eyes. “It is Dean after all.”

The younger goddess inhaled slowly and gave Dean a lopsided smile. “As I was saying, a person’s thread is like DNA. People are a combination of a father’s and a mother’s DNA but they are unique from them. A person’s thread, while as unique as they are, contains tiny bits of their parent’s threads. And those bits contain scraps of their parents and their parent’s parents and so on.”

Sam looked up from his spot in a long forgotten armchair nearby, the papers in his hands making a crisp sound. “So bits of each generation get passed down the line?”

“Urd can pick out those little bits and follow them back to a point. Once she finds an appropriate time span she can focus on all the knowledge she carries around in her head and find what she’s looking for rather quickly,” Skuld answered with a nod.

Dean let the explanation sink in for a moment, his expression clouding. “She can look back in time.”

“Vividly.” Skuld motioned to the book in front of her, casting an anxious glance at it. “She can even track things like that back along a line, as long as the line holds a connection to it. Ya know like someone passes it down or adds to it; works best with family heirlooms.”

“But digging deep hurts her,” Verdandi chimed in from the couch. She let her arm fall over the edge of the sheet-covered piece of furniture with a huff, staring up at the discolored ceiling tiles. “She knows everything that has happened and digging deep into all that knowledge gives her the mother of all headaches.”

The younger goddess turned her attention to the papers and book in front of her. “That’s why she rarely does it.”

Dean examined the papers on the table as he considered his next question for a moment. “Is she the only one with a special ability?”

“I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue,” Verdandi mused, raising her hand.

Sam bit back a laugh at the annoyed look on his brother’s face and returned to his reading. “Not exactly what he was asking about.”

Verdandi crossed her arms over her chest with a bored sigh. “Well isn’t he picky.”

“Oh don’t start,” Skuld snapped, eying her sister coldly.

Verdandi glanced toward the younger goddess before closing her eyes and ignoring her.

“We see our respective areas,” Skuld began, sitting back in her chair. “Urd sees all that was, bitchy there sees all that is, and I see all that could or will be.”

Dean picked up one of the translated pages and began to skim through the words. “That must be interesting to have running through your head.”

“Not really. It’s like an annoying reality show,” Verdandi mumbled.

“We’ve learned to pretty much block out certain things over the millennia.” Skuld slowly pulled the book to her and opened it slowly. “If we didn’t we would be driven mad.”

Sam looked at the white-haired goddess seated at the table. “But you have recall going back as far as Urd.”

“We have recall but not with the same clarity as Urd. And our recall is about events we experienced; Urd’s recall is about everything, not just what she’s been through,” she informed.

Dean made an uncomfortable grimace as he stared at the paper in his hands, his brow furrowing.

Sam sat forward in his chair with a frown and watched his brother for a moment before speaking. “Something wrong, Dean?”

“This author is so far off the reservation it’s not funny,” Dean answered, putting the translation page down. He pushed his hands back through his hair and stared at the neat pile of pages in front of Skuld. “Are you kidding with those?”

Skuld shook her head but didn’t look up from the book in her hand. “Nope.”

Dean’s face went flush and he swallowed hard, staring blankly across the room.

Curiosity got the better of Sam and he gathered his papers, setting them on the floor near his chair. He continued to watch his brother while he crossed the living room and stopped beside the table. Dean was rarely caught off guard by things and most certainly not anything book related. Sam couldn’t help but wonder what could turn the usually confident Dean flush.

He picked up the sheet Dean had dropped, reading it carefully.

“If that’s the translation I’m thinking it is, you’d do better to pick another page,” Skuld advised, her gaze flitting toward the taller man. “Some of the later pages aren’t exactly reader friendly.”

Sam’s eyes skimmed the page and his expression darkened. “With the subject bound, firmly grasp the manndomsalder.” He paused and straightened, swallowing hard. “Is that the right word in the margin?”

“Norwegian is as close to Old Norse as those runes get and while I haven’t had a need to speak it in ages, I can still translate it. Manndomsalder is manhood,” Skuld replied evenly.

Sam cleared his throat, his attention turning back to the translation.

Verdandi watched the younger hunter from the couch with a wary gaze.”Lookin’ a little pale, Sam. You okay?”

Sam answered with a nod but little else while his eyes skimmed the paper.

“Well I feel totally reassured by that.” Verdandi sat up and kept her voice a low almost sultry purr that seemed to make a still visibly shaken Dean more on edge. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

What little color was still in Sam’s face vanished and he dropped the paper to the table as thought it burned him. “No way am I going to repeat that.”

The black-haired goddess straightened and looked between the two men with an expression of absolute interest. “Oh now you really have me interested.”

Skuld grumbled and grabbed the discarded paper, handing it to her older sibling. “Good to know we can get your attention with a little male horrification. I’m sure that will come in very handy.”

Verdandi snatched the paper away with a sneer, clearing her throat. “Firmly grasp the manhood and with a swift upward motion, use the dagger to cleanly sever the organ from the body.”

“So much no on that one,” Dean proclaimed, trying to keep from squirming in his chair.

Verdandi nodded while she skimmed the rest of the translation. “I’m surprised she just to the twig and not the berries.” She paused to flip the paper over, raising an eyebrow with a huff. “Don’t know about the whole weenie roast at the end though.”

Sam and Dean stared at the dark-haired goddess in horrified silence, Skuld dropping her head to the tabletop with a thud.

“Kinda seems weird eating it. Of course humans have eaten stranger things,” Verdandi mused.

“Are you really lumping this with strange eating habits of humans?” Skuld choked out.

Verdandi shrugged and swiped the rest of the translated pages. “Strange eating habits, black magic dabbling, mental issues; it reads like a cheap horror novel.”

Skuld groaned at the blasé comment as Verdandi turned toward the couch and dropped down on the sheet covered cushions.

“It almost reads like one of those buck-fifty bargain books you find at dollar stores.” Verdandi put her feet up, glancing over the pages. “All that’s missing is the monster.”

“That would be the author,” Sam muttered, making his way slowly across the living room floor. “If you can call them that.”

Dean sat back in his seat with a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand back through his hair. “I was thinking more of psychopath than author.”

The floorboards creaked under Sam’s feet when he neared his chair. “Well they aren’t exactly a stable person considering the evidence.”

“You’d be surprised how few people really are stable,” Verdandi mumbled, reading through the pages in her hands. “Whole countries have been run by madmen.”

“And sometimes not very well,” Skuld chimed in.

Dean traced a finger over the edge of the table, picking at the cheap wood grained laminate that was beginning to peel off. “We’ve met our share.”

Skuld folded her hands on the table and stared at the old spell book before speaking up. “I’ve been at this translation too long.”

Dean sat up straight and watched the white-haired goddess slam the book shut. “Okay then.”

“You’ll have to excuse her,” Verdandi mumbled from the couch. “Sometimes her brain snaps and she starts saying random things.”

The younger goddess pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed, turning in her chair slightly. “Can you not be so annoying for once in your life?”

“Let me think.” Verdandi set the page translations in her lap and made a show of thinking. “Toward you, no.”

Skuld rose and walked toward the large bay window, making a point to kick her sister when she passed. “I’d give my left arm to be dealing with a bridezilla instead of you right now.”

“Don’t make us have to separate you two,” Dean scolded, examining the mess of papers covering a good portion of the table.

Verdandi snorted, not bothering to look at the man. “Like you could do that, little man. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s dangerous to get between two gods?”

“Especially when one of them is her,” Skuld mumbled.

Sam busied himself with the papers in his lap as Dean glanced over his shoulder toward the woman at the window.

“Only one person has ever managed to separate us in a fight and that was Urd,” Skuld added. She leaned back against the wall and watched the world outside, her tone clipped. “That’s one of the joys of being in this family. Only one of us is a peacekeeper.”

The hallway boards creaked and groaned beneath the weight of approaching feet, the gathered group looking to the archway at Urd’s wary sounding sigh.

“I’m hardly a peacekeeper but you do keep me on my toes.” Urd paused at the archway, leaning against the frame. “And a lot of the time not in a good way.”

Skuld pushed away from the wall and crossed to her oldest sister, concern painting her features. “My god, Urd, what happened to you?”

The blonde looked a little banged up, the youthful face marred by scratches. Her hair was a tussled mess and the usually bright blue eyes seemed to have lost some of their luster. She appeared exhausted to nearly collapsing as she leaned against the archway from giving Skuld an odd look.

“It’s nothing.” Urd pulled back from Skuld when she tried to touch her face. “Stop trying to touch me, ya weirdo.”

Verdandi sat up and examined the blonde for a moment. “Had a little trouble in wacko world, did you?”

“Shut up.” Urd pushed past Skuld and headed straight for the couch, dropping down with a groan. “I’ve had a long morning.”

Dean watched Urd settle against the sheet covered couch. “You look like hell.”

“Let’s see how you’d look after being jumped by Fluffy the psycho cat and falling into a rose bush,” Urd grumbled. She shot him a cold look before resting her head against the couch. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be so fresh faced.”

Dean took an even breath as Skuld rejoined him at the table, biting back the urge to reply to Urd’s comment with his own brand of sarcasm.

“So aside from the attack cat, how did it go?” Skuld questioned, running her fingers along the tabletop.

“Just peachy.” Urd draped her arm over her eyes, an exhausted edge to her voice. “Never have I had so much fun.”

Verdandi leaned in close to her eldest sibling, taking the chance to get a good look at the scrapes on her face. “You took a header into the rose bush, didn’t you?”

Urd’s arm fell down to her side and she turned her head, giving the black-haired goddess an unamused look. “At least I’m not dressed like a dominatrix on vacation.”

Verdandi’s jaw clenched and she slowly moved back to her end of the couch without another word.

“How did your search go?” the blonde inquired as she let her head roll back to its original position. “Please tell me you were able to find something out about that list of names besides us killing them.”

Skuld frowned and glanced toward Sam. “And so begins the very depressing show and tell.”

From his chair near the far corner Sam looked up from the mass of papers in his lap. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

“There’s a choice?” Urd turned to look over the couch back. “That’s not a good sign.”

Sam shrugged and gathered the papers he had been looking through into a neat pile. “Well, the good news isn’t really all that good.”

“You could call it the lesser of two crazies considering how screwed up the battleaxe is.” Verdandi pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her folded arms. “She makes Caligula look like a stand-up guy.”

Sam rose, papers in hand, and made his way to the couch. “The names on her list aren’t exactly random.”

“Everyone in a small town knows everyone else, she was bound to know them same how,” Urd stated.

“Not the same way she did,” Sam corrected. He handed the mass of papers to the blonde, watching her go through the pages of notes and photocopies. “She wasn’t on any good neighbor lists.”

“Are you serious?”Urd’s expression darkened as she read, her head cocking to the right slightly. “She took all her neighbors to court?”

“Kim has had more legal dealings with people in this town than any normal person should have,” Sam pointed out.

The paper made a crisp sound when she turned the pages. “All these are civil cases.”

“And all dismissed,” Dean added.

Skuld rested her elbows on the table and pointed a slender finger at the stack of papers in Urd’s hands. “How many are we talking?”

“13. They were dismissed because of lack of evidence on her part.” Sam took a seat on the arm of the couch, turning his attention to Skuld. “One judge even made a note in the court records about how her frivolous cases and utter abuse of the legal system was deplorable.”

Urd read over the papers carefully. “What would possess a woman to go sue happy like this?”

“Being totally crazy would be my guess,” Verdandi offered.

Skuld shook her head and looked across the table at Dean. “That’s her explanation for everything.”

“And most of the time its right,” Verdandi yelled.

Urd cringed at the sudden outburst beside her and swung the papers at the woman, slapping her in the face. “Stop yelling in my ear.”

“It was probably brought on by a general dislike of people but her butting heads with neighbors got worse after a traffic accident involving her mother.” Sam cut in, trying to defuse the growing tension. “Up to then, she was fairly quiet.”

“What type of traffic accident?” Skuld relaxed in her seat, her expression concerned. “I don’t ever remember seeing her driving, come to think of it.”

Dean cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Drunk driver t-boned her.”

Verdandi pursed her lips, loudly popping them as she studied her nails. “Hope she had good insurance for a hit like that.”

“A drunk hits mommy dearest and that makes her snap?” Urd set the papers in her lap, shaking her head. “That seems like a strange trigger for turning a secretary into a killer.”

“Loads of people are involved in car accidents every day and they don’t turn homicidal because of it,” Skuld chimed in.

Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion for a second. “I’m guessing you’re not counting road rage attacks, huh?”

“No.” The answer was blunt, the woman waiving the question off. “You tend to get those once in a while but those people pretty much have a screw lose to begin with.”

The room fell silent as the two women on the couch looked blankly at their younger sister, Sam and Dean appearing more caught off guard by the comment than confused.

“What?” Skuld’s gaze moved from face to face, frowning. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Urd shook her head and returned to the papers in her lap. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t the accident that really caused it; it was the personal injury trail later.” Sam motioned toward Urd’s papers. “That would have made anyone snap.”

Urd sorted through the stack of papers in her lap and pulled out a stapled bunch. “Your lovely human justice system. Oh how far you’ve all come from beating each other with rocks.”

“Now they just beat each other with paperwork,” Verdandi mumbled from her end of the couch. She flashed the blonde a forced looking smile before pushing herself to her feet. “Isn’t the human march of progress grand?”

Urd ignored the snide sounding comment and continued to flip through the stapled papers.

“How bad was the mother injured?” Skuld inquired as Verdandi wandered toward the bay window. “Or weren’t you able to find that out?”

“Bad enough,” Dean spoke up. He could hear the bored sounding huff Verdandi let out as she passed but ignored her, focusing on the younger goddess in front of him. “She’s been a resident of The Beachwood Assisted Care Facility since the accident.”

“A rehab facility?” Urd asked, looking up from her papers. “I didn’t think this town has a rehab facility or even a care home at all.”

Dean got as comfortable as he could, stretching and folding his hands over his stomach. “It doesn’t. The Beachwood place is in a town called Hallish about 30 miles north of here.”

“And with her there that makes Kim her trustee, right?” the white-haired goddess questioned.

“I don’t think that’s the right word. She’s probably more of a caretaker,” Sam replied calmly.

Urd dropped the bundle of papers in her lap, a confused scowl painting her features. “I think you humans should go back to clubbing each other with rocks.”

Verdandi chuckled at the proclamation, leaning against the window frame. “That would be fun to watch.”

“The personal injury case.” Sam caught the annoyed huff Urd let out as she tossed the papers aside, leaning against the back of the couch. “I think Kim would have enjoyed that better.”

Skuld motioned to the papers Urd had and gave the blonde a nod of thanks when she handed them over. “Did she lose?”

“Not in a manner of speaking,” Dean mumbled.

“The driver was charged with the usual counts in criminal court, found guilty and sentenced. Lost their license for a while, court ordered AA meetings for multiple offences and a couple months in the county jail. Given the damaged caused, the sentencing was a slap on the wrist.” Sam sounded almost disgusted as he talked about the case, letting out his own annoyed huff. “It was almost like a bad joke for the victim.”

“Drunky gets three hots and a cot at taxpayer’s expense while Kim’s mother gets mounting bills, bionic parts and nurses who give her chocolate pudding with her morphine drip,” Verdandi chimed in. “That’s not a bad joke, that’s karma screwing you with no lube.”

“How elegantly put.” The comment was more of a grumble from the blonde on the couch. “It’s a wonder you’re still single with suck a charming personality as that.”

Verdandi sneered but said nothing, looking out at the unkempt yard.

“With the damage done physically and the mounting medical bills, Kim contacted a lawyer on behalf of her mother. They filed a personal injury case for damages and medical expenses.” Sam rested his elbows on the back of the couch, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “It didn’t go as planned.”

Skuld scanned the legal papers quietly, running her finger along each line.

“The defendant, one Mindy Crosby, pled indigent which got her a pro bono lawyer. When the court found for Kim’s mother, Mindy’s lawyer filed an appeal stating that his client could not fulfill the financial conditions of the ruling,” Sam continued.

“She was ordered to pay $500,000 which covered medical bills and some punitive damage, mostly medical bills,” Skuld read, glancing toward Sam. “The court could garnish for payment.”

“She didn’t have a real income to garnish,” Dean spoke up.

“Mindy could not hold down a job because of a _mental instability_ that interfered with her ability to work. Because of that, she was on permanent disability,” Sam explained.

Skuld frowned and stopped her reading. “Dissociative identity disorder?” She paused, running a hand back through her hair, and took a deep breath before letting it out with a hiss. “She claimed multiple personalities?”

“And was paid by the state to be crazy,” Dean said flatly.

The goddess snorted and pushed the papers away, rubbing her fingers along the bridge of her nose. “My head hurts.”

“And that’s not all. Turns out she was a con artist too.” Sam reached down to sift through the papers still on the couch, pulling out a copy of a charge sheet. “She used her D.I.D. as an excuse to get out of most of the petty charges, rounds of psychiatric admissions helped with that too. As she got older, she began posing as a number of c-list celebrities online, passing them off as her alters then draining her so-called friend’s bank accounts. She was arrested for wire-fraud at least twice for wire-fraud but the charges never stuck.”

“So the appeal played off the fixed income and mental defect cards,” Urd offered.

“And the previous ruling was struck down. The judge knocked everything back to square one and by that time there wouldn’t be enough in the mother’s accounts to try again and keep her medical care going,” Sam concluded.

The trio was silent as though letting the weight of Sam’s words settle in. Disgust was evident on each woman’s face, the odd looks sending a chill down the taller man’s spine. The few moments of quiet felt like an eternity passing before any one of them said a word.

‘’Ya know, I really hate people like that,” Verdandi murmured, an edge to her voice. “Maybe you all should go back to knocking each other around to settle disputes. You might get more satisfaction that way.”

“For once I’m in total agreement on that,” Dean admitted.

“Mark down the date.” Verdandi feigned a shocked look as she turned to Urd, making a show of gasping for emphasis. “The kid actually agrees with me.”

Skuld eyed the papers on the table and raked her teeth against her bottom lip. “So the case falls through and a couple months later she drags up here to kill for her. Totally logical progression I guess.”

“Oh yeah,” Verdandi grumbled, turning away from the window. “Bitch snaps and pulls us here to wipe out half the town via a creepy ass book. Completely logical on her part.”

Urd stretched and rolled her neck, letting out an exhausted sounding groan. “To her, it probably is. Just like it’s completely logical to wipe out anyone involved with that failed case starting with the attorney who represented the drunk.”

Skuld grabbed the court papers once more, scanning the lines for names. “Wait, are you sure ?”

Dean’s eyebrow arched and he opened his mouth to speak, Urd silencing him with a single raised finger.

“Don’t, Dean. Just don’t.” The blonde lowered her finger and heard him clear his throat before shifting in his seat. “It’s been a long enough day already.”

“What I’m more interested in is where she got that damned book in the first place.” Verdandi leveled a finger at the book in question, shaking her head slowly. “We all know that’s not a flea market find.”

“She inherited it,” Urd said flatly.

The room fell silent at the admission and four startled pairs of eyes settled on the blonde, Skuld and Verdandi’s mouths agape.

“Are you shitting us?” Verdandi choked. She took a couple steps toward the blonde, the surprise turning to annoyance. “How the hell does that homely psycho inherit the absolute worst book in the history of the written word?”

Urd sighed and felt the dull throb of her previous headache beginning to resurface. “Along the maternal line. It’s been passed down from mother to daughter over the centuries to wind up with her.”

“So you found the author?” Dean questioned, sitting up. “Was it a Volvo?”

“Pretty sure a car can’t write, Dean. I mean with the lack of opposable thumbs and all,” Verdandi snorted.

Skuld gave him a smile that reminded him of a kindergarten teacher, one that clearly said, “at least you tried” without drawing too much attention. “Vӧlva.”

“Yes, it was a vӧlva. And it’s one we ran into before.” Urd thought back to the memory dredged up in Kim’s borrowed kitchen, a scowl taking hold of her features. “Her name was Gerda.”

The air in the room seemed to take on a heavy almost charged feeling to it, Skuld and Verdandi’s eyes turning cold.

“Gerda? That self-serving and power hungry witch is the author?” Skuld hissed. She turned in her chair to face Urd, gripping the back of her chair hard. “The same woman who nearly killed a small boy just to get our help?”

“One and the same,” Urd replied flatly.

Verdandi began to pace the floor in front of the bay window, her hands clenched in tight fists and her knuckles turning white. “You should have killed her when you had the chance instead of wounding her.”

The blonde glared at her pacing sister as she passed. “She wasn’t worth it at the time and you know it. So back off.”

Skuld clapped her hands together and spoke up, her gaze going from one sister to another. “Moving on.”

Neither sister looked toward her as Skuld got up to retrieve the translation pages Verdandi abandoned on the couch.

“I made headway on the book Gerda left behind.” She quickly pulled her handwritten pages together and handed them to Urd. “Just past half-way but still haven’t found the actual spell. I shouldn’t be close though; the rituals are getting darker the further I go back.”

Urd glanced up at her youngest sibling, getting a nervous little smile as she took the papers.

“The book starts out like a manual for beginners; what herbs do what and that kind of thing. But after a while everything goes dark.” She walked back to the table while Urd read, making a point to sidestep Verdandi. “Gerda starts talking about poisons and their effectiveness, how to administer them best and how long they take. She even goes into detail about what happens to the poison victims.”

“She was experimenting on people?” Sam questioned, sitting on the couch’s arm.

Skuld answered with a nod. “She goes into great detail.”

Verdandi’s pacing stopped long enough for her to send a wadded bit of legal paper skittering under the couch with a kick. “So animal testing.”

“In a way,” Skuld hesitated, frowning at the comparison. “She starts with animals and moves up the food chain.”

“Like ya do.” The dark-haired goddess wandered toward the arched entryway and sank to sit against the painted wood, occupying the only clean spot she could find. “Natural progression for psychopaths.”

“So I’m guessing Gerda was a special kind of crazy then,” Dean commented from the table.

Urd looked through each page in her hand, cringing as she read. “Seems to run in the family.”

“No doubt about that. Anyone who uses goddesses to kill just because a dog crapped on their lawn has a major screw loose.” Verdandi pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head against the wall behind her. “Doesn’t matter if it runs in the family or not.”

“Gerda was unstable at best. Called on us to give favor to one of her clients and tried to bribe us with a small child sacrifice.” Skuld looked over the papers on the table and shook her head. “Urd told her no and it looks like the rejection made her worse.”

Verdandi snorted. “Urd’s no was a knife in the bitch’s shoulder.”

Dean glanced toward the blonde on the couch. “That’s some no.”

She didn’t look up from her papers when she spoke, her voice remaining even as though she were discussing the weather. “I was returning her knife. It’s not my fault she couldn’t catch it.”

“But in all fairness, Gerda threw it first so Urd was returning it,” Skuld added. She gave a little shrug toward the couch and frowned at the expression that darkened Dean’s features. “And she could have easily killed Gerda but she didn’t.”

“Because Urd has great aim,” Verdandi commented. She mimicked throwing a knife by its blade with an unsettling grin. “She could have sent that knife through the witch’s empty head.”

The older man let his gaze settle on the unassuming blonde once more. He couldn’t see the petite woman throwing a dagger into someone’s shoulder with her nose buried in reading material. He knew better than that but seeing her quietly looking over papers made the tiny skeptical part of his brain that demanded visual proof wonder just how good her aim was.

“Why didn’t you kill her?” he questioned cautiously.

Urd finally looked up from the translations and let out an almost wary sounding sigh. “Because death is too permanent a lesson. One can learn more from humility and failing reputation than death could ever teach.”

Sam, who had been listening from the arm of the couch, cleared his throat and paused just long enough to phrase his question. “I thought you said vӧlva gave up family life?”

“They usually do. It’s easier to travel the countryside when you have nothing to hold you down,” Skuld answered.

“Then why would she go back to family life and have a child?” he asked calmly.

“To pass her arcane knowledge down,” Urd muttered. She sank further into the sofa, setting the translations aside. “What better way to do that than by raising a child from birth and teaching them from an early age?”

For a brief moment Sam thought back to his and Dean’s childhood; to growing up to fast and having too much responsibility on their shoulders. For the most part of it had been dean who took the brunt of it, shielding Sam for as long as he could. But shielding can only do so much and eventually Sam had to shoulder the load just like his brother. They took it all because they had to; because it was the family business as Dean had taken to calling it. Saving people and hunting things just as their father had done and trained them to carry on. While he was sure Gerda’s child had a much different upbringing than they did he knew they had one thing in common; they shouldered it all because they had to.

“Something tells me Gerda wasn’t the best parent in the world,” Dean grumbled from the table.

“Whatever gave you that idea, Dean?” Verdandi ran a finger over her bent knee absently. “Couldn’t be from the attempted human sacrifice or anything.”

Skuld turned slightly on her chair to look at Urd. “So the book passed from Gerda to her daughter and so on down the line. Any chance someone slacked off on teaching their following generation?”

Urd shook her head. “What do you think?”

The youngest goddess snorted and turned back to face the mass of papers on the table. “Should have known.”

“The book made its way from generation to generation even as the family settled and the vӧlva disappeared. Hundreds of years that book has been passed down and girls of the family taught exactly how to use it until now,” Urd said coolly. “Most of them probably thought it was a joke.”

“Lucky us,” Verdandi mumbled.

“So we’ve got a woman with revenge and probably anger issues running around with an old book written by an unstable ancestor.” Dean scrubbed his hand back through his hair with a huff. “God, I miss the easy cases.”

“So sorry we aren’t an easy case,” Urd said flatly.

Sam regarded the blonde quietly for a moment before he spoke up. “Once we find out what Kim did to capture them, we can work on reversing it.”

“And you can go back to your easy cases, Dean.” Urd slowly got to her feet and began to make her way for the stairs. “In the meantime, I’m going to take a nap. My head is killing me.”

Verdandi remained on the floor not bothering to look at her sibling while Skuld returned to the book in front of her with a small wave. “Enjoy it.”

“My extremely caring sisters.” The blonde climbed the stairs, grumbling with each step. “I could be on fire and they wouldn’t care.”

“Too tired to care. Sorry,” the dark haired goddess called. “Try back later.”

The grumbling continued until Urd was gone, the living room falling quiet for a moment.

Sam gathered up the translation pages from the couch and handed them back to Skuld. “At least we know the book source.”

“And yet knowing that does not make it better,” Verdandi stated, resting her chin on her knees. “Makes it kinda depressing.”

Skuld flipped through the time darkened pages and once more grabbed pen and paper. “How is it depressing?”

Verdandi closed her eyes and remained on the floor, back resting against the wooden archway. “That a bitch like her can get laid just to keep up crazy while I can’t even get a decent boytoy. My faith in humanity is lost.”

The younger goddess’ jaw set but didn’t dignify her older sibling with an answer, preferring instead of busy herself with translation.

Dean hauled himself out of his seat with a huff and made a b-line for the hallway. “On that note I’m going to check on our provisions. I have a feeling we’re going to need a shopping trip soon.”

“Dead men don’t need groceries, Dean,” Verdandi muttered when the man walked past.

“And goddesses don’t need head to toe leather but that didn’t stop you from that outfit,” he shot back.

The goddess seated at the table laughed while the one on the floor glared at Dean as he passed.

Sam shook his head at the pair’s verbal sparring and joined Skuld at the table, occupying Dean’s vacated seat.

“I love watching her have to deal with a smartass,” Skuld mumbled, smiling up from the book in front of her. “Now she knows how Urd and I feel.”

Sam rested his arms on the paper cluttered table, regarding the white-haired woman calmly. “Urd didn’t look really well. Will she be alright?”

“She just needs to rest but she’ll be fine,” Skuld nodded. “I doubt we’ll be seeing much of her tonight.”

Sam glanced up at the ceiling and the slightly creaking boards. “And that’s normal?”

Skuld returned to the spell book with a tiny laugh. “Very.”

“Urd once slept for thirteen days after reading a thread,” Verdandi spoke up. She groaned as she stretched, her leather protesting when she moved. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“A couple hour nap will help and she’ll be good,” Skuld added, looking over the page.

Sam sat back and lowered his eyes to the papers from the courthouse. “All this because of a twisted need for revenge.”

“Humans are hard to understand.” Verdandi brought a hand to the collar on her neck, scratching absently. “After a few centuries one lear…”

Sam’s attention was instantly drawn to the goddess on the floor, a mix of worry and confusion showing in his features. “Verdandi?”

Panic gripped the pair struggling against their collars, the same fear Sam had seen with Urd clear in her sisters’ eyes. Verdandi clutched at her throat and the iron ring as her face twisted into an expression of pain. Skuld was in no better position, giving her ring a futile tug while fighting for breath.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice rang off the walls and his chair crashed back into the stained wall as he jumped to his feet, scrambling to Skuld’s side. “Dean.”

Skuld gasped for air, her hand frantically grasping at Sam’s with he moved in behind her.

Dean’s heavy footfalls made the floorboards rattle when he came running back toward the living room. He stopped at the archway and the struggling goddess, dropping to one knee to check on her. The determined expression on Dean’s face faded when Verdandi grabbed hold of his arm desperately.

“It’s the collars,” Sam informed.

A loud crash from upstairs made the men look toward the ceiling and brought the full gravity of the situation to light. It was just as it happened before on the Mardyn property, the iron collars bringing all three women into submission. No amount of clawing or pulling at the iron ring would stop the momentary assault; all three women were simply enduring it.

“How can she call them if we have the book?” Dean snapped. He tried his best to offer support to Verdandi, frowning at the raspy gasps she made. “It was all Kim had on her.”

Skuld’s wild eyes locked on Sam and her free hand seized a sheet of paper, shoving it into the young man’s hand with a final gasp. She let out a tiny cry that sounded more like a squeak and vanished along with Verdandi. The room lapsed into an unsettling quiet that seemed to press down around the hunters.

Dean rose and stepped further into the living room almost hesitantly. “This has to stop.”

Sam looked down at the paper in his hand and pulled it open, nodding his agreement to Dean’s comment.

“What’s that?” the older man questioned.

Sam’s reply sounded flat, as though he was on the verge of waking up. “The translation key Skuld was using on the book.”

Dean stepped closer, looking over the papers Skuld left behind. “Think you can translate?”

“Not used to old Norse runes,” Sam began. He reached for the book on the table and flipped through the pages. “But I can try.”

Dean gave a nod and fished the car keys from his pocket. “Well try.”

“Where are you going?” Sam followed his brother down the wall toward the kitchen, the skin bound book in his hand.

“To see if I can find the sisters,” Dean answered, disappearing through the door to the garage.

Sam listened to the engine of the Impala roar to life and the crunch of gravel as it backed out of the garage, turning away from the door. “Good luck.”


	25. Chapter 25

“So this is hell.” Verdandi examined the shelves and displays around her critically. “I for one didn’t expect it to have so much hair product.”

Skuld and Urd followed their sister up the aisle, each woman browsing as she went.

“And I certainly didn’t expect it to have accompanying music,” Verdandi added.

“It’s not hell, its retail,” Skuld corrected, stopping to sniff a bottle of shampoo. “Oh, this one smells nice.”

“I think it’s more robbery.” Urd shook her head and straightened, tapping at the shelf she had examined. “Eight dollars for shampoo.”

Verdandi motioned toward the pharmacy counter at the back of the store. “Nope, it’s hell. I mean look at this place.”

The town drugstore seemed small. The shelves were full and the aisles cluttered with cardboard displays that took up too much room. Handwritten signs hung from nearly every shelf in almost tacky over-abundance proclaiming “great deal” and “see our circular” rather desperately. The employees they could see in the pharmacy looked rather personable, talking and joking with customers they waited on. The good natured jokes and talk aside there was something more that hung in the air; the faintest hint of discord lingering over them. It became more tangible the closer they got to the back counter, that all too noticeable feeling that none of them wanted to be there.

“Doesn’t really scream cheerful, does it?” Verdandi finally questioned.

Skuld pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “I’ve felt more cheer at a funeral.”

Verdandi made her way to the center aisle and caught sight of the cashier at the front counter. “These poor bastards. I think if the place burned down they’d all party.”

“You’re probably right.” Urd wandered down the stationary aisle, looking at the overly crowded peg display. “And I’m sure a couple have thought about it.”

Skuld wandered down the candy aisle, letting her gaze scan the hanging bags and chocolate bars lining the display walls. “Would you blame them?”

“No. It’s a prison that pays minimum wage,” Verdandi quipped.

The trio wandered along the aisles watching the employees quietly. The conversations began to fade and the voices dulled to a soft murmur when they returned to the center of the store. Each woman took a last look around before regrouping.

“I love places like this. They’re just full of blunt objects,” Verdandi sighed happily, pointing toward the ceiling. “And fall hazards.”

Skuld shook her head and traced the path of an old electric outlet along a metal column. “old buildings have their problems.”

“You say problems, I say opportunities.” Verdandi had an unsettling smile as she examined the shelves and their clutter. “This is going to be interesting.”

Her sisters regarded the woman blankly for a moment, Urd shaking her head slowly. “You take too much pleasure in things like this. It’s kind of unsettling.”

The dark-haired woman leveled a scowl at her sibling, her voice lowering to a near hiss. “There is nothing wrong with enjoying the opportunity to be creative.”

“When it borders on an almost psychopathic enjoyment of it there is something very wrong,” Skuld mumbled.

Verdandi gave her youngest sister a forced smile, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Oh that’s right. We’re the goddesses of happy rainbows and fuzzy kittens. What was I possibly thinking?”

Urd rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh, hanging her head. “And here we go.”

“Have you forgotten what our day job is? What we have been doing for thousands of years?” The smile faded but Verdandi’s voice lost none of its edge. “Our usual job with these humans is homicide, Skuld. We help keep a balance by killing them now and then.”

“Our day job? You make it sound like it’s a part-time job at McDonald’s or something,” Skuld sputtered.

“I wouldn’t say its that bad,” Verdandi frowned. She waved off the comparison and continued on. “At any rate, its our job to cull the population once in a while and having them die the same way every time gets boring.”

“The more you say, the worse it sounds,” Skuld mumbled.

“Normal is vastly over-rated,” Verdandi stated.

“Especially for you.” Urd brought her hand up to show the six gossamer threads dancing around her fingers. “Have you two forgotten why we’re here?”

The pair shook their heads, Skuld breaking eye contact with the older woman rather quickly.

“Six at once? She’s getting more and more vindictive as she goes,” Verdandi commented, watching the strings dance.

“Nothing about that surprises me anymore.” Urd shrugged and nodded toward the front counter. “Front clerk and five in the back.”

Verdandi slowly walked to the top of the aisle to get a good look at the front clerk.

Victim number one was a tall and stocky woman with a plain face. Her brown hair was peppered with coarse grey hairs that made the mess of hair look almost straw-like. Her face was pock-marked and when she spoke a broken line of yellowed teeth could be seen. When they had come in, she had looked far from welcoming. Seeing her up close simply drove the point home.

“Well, doesn’t she look friendly.” Verdandi looked thoughtful when she turned and looked back to her sisters. “The rest of them as grim as her?”

Urd swept her arm invitingly toward the back. “See for yourself.”

Verdandi strolled past her siblings leisurely, her gaze travelling to the shelves surrounding them.

“Kim’s short fuse is going to get this whole town killed,” Skuld confided as she and Urd followed their sister.

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that,” Urd replied with a heavy sigh.

Victim number two was found working on changing a shelving area. It was a short man in glasses with reddish thinning hair. His color looked on the grey side as though he had been sick, his movements slow. He was quiet while he took down the metal shelves and began putting up metal pegs. He had a smoker’s cough that rattled his chest and echoed through the store, a cough he didn’t bother to cover.

Verdandi paused as she passed him, picking out the security cameras hanging from the pharmacy ceiling.

“V?”Urd questioned.

Verdandi turned at the end of the aisle and disappeared around a corner before stopping in front of a magazine rack.

“You think she’s got ideas?” Skuld questioned.

Urd nodded as they followed Verdandi. “Too many.”

Verdandi stood looking over the magazine racks carefully before reaching for a hot rod issue. “They watch these people like they’re all thieves. And the bulk of their oh so modern security is pointed right at their own employees. It’s a wonder they don’t have the workers chained down.”

“Who would want to steal from this place? Everything is an overpriced ripoff,” Skuld laughed. She pointed to the shelves of cheap looking picture frames a couple feet away. “You could find better at a dollar store.”

“No wonder the employees seem less than happy. If someone was watching me like a criminal, I’d be upset to,” Urd added.

Verdandi flipped through the magazine in her hands briefly before putting it back. “We might be doing these people a favor.”

“How very magnanimous of us,” Skuld mumbled, glancing toward Urd. “We could be getting rid of tyrants.”

The black-haired woman stepped past her siblings with a smile and followed the remaining four strings. “Shall we meet the others?”

Urd chuckled and fell in behind her younger sister. “Meet the soon to be dead? That’s a new one.”

Victims three and four were in the pharmacy portion of the store, a man and a woman respectively. The trio stepped unseen into the pharmacy bay to get a better look, dodging the pharmacy tech on duty.

The woman in question was on the short side with brown hair, dark eyes, and a smallish build. She was leaning against the counter with her backside sticking out, looking as unenthused and bored as ever. Her head was resting on the laminate top and the brown ponytail lay limp just behind her cutting the usable area greatly. She didn’t bother to help the technician frantically trying to fill the prescriptions piled up on the counter or even answer the ringing phones. Instead she just occupied space and made the tall dark-haired girl actually working reach over her and making herself a nuisance at the same time.

The man down the counter from her was about 6 inches taller than she was with thinning hair cut into a close buzz cut, a slender build and a soft spoken manner. He wasn’t lazy like she was but he wasn’t much of a help either. Instead of asking the woman leaning against the counter to help or lecturing her about her behaviors all he did was obsessively check every little detail of every prescription not once but twice. He was obsessively fixated on anything other than admonishing the short woman just down the counter. While the one working tech struggled to make a dent in the basket laden counter, the man would wait on customers but those seemed too by the book. The customers seemed to bristle at having to deal with him, the black and white answers and unhelpful attitude making a couple customers openly complain.

Skuld watched the tall dark-haired woman work as fast as she could, frowning deeply. “You’d think that lazy one would get off her ass and help.”

“Don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Verdandi glared at the woman leaning on the counter with a harsh sounding laugh. “The more I see, the more this place seems like a bad joke.”

“And there are still two more in the back,” Urd pointed out.

Verdandi straightened and thumbed back at the pharmacist with the graying buzz cut. “Worse than anal OCD there?”

Urd gave a small nod and retreated behind one of the drug bays.

With one last glare at the lazy woman, Verdandi started after the last two strings.

The final strings lead the woman into a back office where victims five and six were watching security tapes and keeping a close eye on the employees in the store.

Both were men and both came across as though they thought they were gods. Good looks had not graced either man nor, in Verdandi’s mind, had even come light years close to them. Pompous came to the woman’s mind along with ass-kisser and troll. The taller man was fat and balding with a pinched face that reminded Verdandi of a punching dummy. He acted as if he was the most powerful man on the planet which was a clear sign to her that he had no authority at all. He was a bully pure and simple and she knew it; using a position to make himself seem more important than he really was.

The shorter man was not as large but had his own gut that was poorly hidden by his shirt. His face was slack and his eyes squinty behind the glasses he wore. He stared at the computer screen slack jawed, Verdandi hearing the labored breathing of a congested head. Like his companion, the shorter man had a self-important attitude while watching the footage. And like with the other man, this one was a bully too. The rude demeanor and condescending manner in which he spoke about the employees was shameful.

“I hate these self-righteous pricks. I really do. Lard ass and worm boy look like the poster children,” Verdandi hissed. She glared daggers at the two men, her jaw setting. “Limited intelligence and no authority at home or work makes them bullies to everyone around them.”

“Suddenly I’m all for this job,” Skuld spoke up. She glared disdainfully at the two men before turning away. “If I had to deal with these people, I’d want to kill them too.”

Urd shook her head and moved from the office door to look over the cluttered backroom around them. “But you have sense enough not to.”

“We all know the woman is nuts. But what can we do?” Verdandi offered.

Urd wandered back into the store and stopped to watch the activity in the pharmacy.

“A couple fewer assholes in the world wouldn’t hurt.” Verdandi’s footsteps on the tiles were barely noticeable as she and Skuld followed the older woman. “Might make a few people here happy.”

The speakers above crackled briefly before The Coasters’ _Poison Ivy_ carried through the store for the enjoyment of the customers. The sounds of pills being counted and sorted occasionally interrupted the song along with the startling addition of a metal shelf being hammered out of a display. Somewhere in the store the shuffle of feet could be picked out as a customer wandered along an aisle. The white noise of the overhead lights, broken by a rouge flicker, added to the quiet of the store; a quiet that would soon be ending.

“I’m scared to ask what you have up your sleeve,” Urd sighed, walking to a floor display.

Verdandi smiled innocently and had a seat in the tiny waiting area. “Still thinking about it really.”

Skuld watched the taller female tech disappear into one of the bays before moving away. “Go for creative.”

The dark-haired goddess watched the short man from the aisle walk past and disappear in the back. She cocked an eyebrow when he reappeared with a large ladder in tow, rising to follow him. She stopped to watch him set up the ladder beneath the flickering fluorescent bulbs in the center aisle with a grin.

“I can always tells when she gets an idea,” Urd mumbled, Skuld standing beside her. “She always ends up smiling.”

“Kinda creepy, if you ask me,” Skuld admitted.

The older woman nodded her agreement while watching the red-haired man wander toward the back of the store. When he disappeared her gaze shifted to the black and red clad woman staring at the flickering bulbs overhead.

It was hard to tell just what was going through the woman’s head and after centuries of dealing with her it wasn’t wise to guess. The march of time and progress had twisted the dark-haired sister’s creativity into an unpredictable time bomb. There was no way to say what she’d settle on or how gruesome the result would be until everything played out. Verdandi could focus on an overhead power line only to turn around and kill you with a tree branch in the end; anything was fair game for her to use.

The threads continued to dance around Urd’s hand, grazing against her fingertips and twisting up her wrist like vines. “How are the ideas coming?”

“Very well.” Verdandi reached for her sister’s hand, fingers going for the threads. “I think I’ve got a couple.”

Urd brought her hand up and watched Verdandi pinch the threads, rolling them between her fingers. “Oh joy.”

The younger goddess released the threads and stepped back. “Skuld said be creative.”

“And when do you ever listen to me?” Skuld questioned.

The black-haired goddess gave a shrug and turned on her heel toward the ladder. “Occasionally I do.”

The youngest goddess looked extremely doubtful as the red-headed man came back to the ladder with a box and a new fluorescent light.

The trio heard the wooden ladder creak loudly when he climbed the rungs up to the ceiling fixture, the legs shaking. At the top of the ladder he paused to place the box he was carrying on the fold out paint shelf then reached for the flickering tube. The unsteady wooden legs squeaked on the discolored tiles like nails on a chalkboard that made the trio cringe.

Behind the counter the front cashier was busying herself with the cartons of cigarettes behind the register. She didn’t bother to look up when the ladder squeaked against the floor or even come to offer help when it sounded like the man was struggling on the ladder top. She was more interested in ignoring the man on the ladder and staying well away from actual work.

Skuld examined the threads and the staggered black marks occupying them. Her gaze briefly shifted to Verdandi as her fingers hovered above them. She looked unsure about touching the lines and seeing just what her sister had come up with. The expression remained on the younger woman’s face for a moment before beginning to fade.

“What?” Verdandi straightened when Skuld shot her an odd look. “What are you looking at me for?”

“I’m scared to see just what you’ve come up with,” the white-haired woman answered. “Especially in such an enclosed space.”

Verdandi huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Skuld shifted her gaze back to the gold threads, finally giving the group a quick pinch.

The ladder gave a loud squeak and shook as the man at the top reached for the fixture above him. He took hold of the flashing fluorescent light as the gold thread disappeared into his back. The ladder shook when he gave the faulty bulb a tug, the legs slipping apart and sending the man to the ground. His body landed on top of the ladder with a loud snapping sound, his back striking the wooden frame.

Urd and Skuld cringed at the sound, both women leveling uncomfortable looks at their sister.

The man laying on top of the fallen ladder gasped for breath, trying to reach for a nearby shelf to pull himself up. Above him the light flashed in its socket before both bulbs cracked and fell. He let out a strangled cry when the glass struck him, the shards slicing into his neck and chest. A steady stream of blood flowed from the wounds on his neck, the jagged glass piercing his carotid keeping the arterial spray at bay for the most part. The strangled cry was turning into a wet and odd bubbling croak while he lay in a slowly spreading pool of blood.

Behind the front counter the cashier was faring no better.

While the man on the ladder was dragged to the ground by gravity, the woman had continued her work only to be cut short. The work behind the register had come to an abrupt end when her hand brushed an old outlet box, the mess of wires inside sparking and sending a jolt of electricity through her. The current was strong enough to make her eyes roll back and her muscles twitch, the electricity racing up her arm and across her chest. When the charge reached her heart the steady lub-dub turned sporadic and racing. The electricity coursed through every cell and muscle in a destructive arch before exiting her left hand. Another large spark raced up her arm and into her chest, her already racing heart exploding with the added current. The final jolt sent her body reeling before gravity dropped her.

Urd arched an eyebrow when the body fell and regarded her middle sister calmly. “So this is creative?”

Verdandi shrugged innocently and turned on her heel.

Skuld worried her bottom lip, hugging herself. “I really don’t like her creative.”

The woman from the pharmacy who seemed attached to the counter came running out of the elevated section in a futile attempt to help but didn’t make it much past the back registers. She headed toward the front but made it only as far as the large mirror hanging from the ceiling. The bolts holding the security mirror in place broke free of its flimsy tile and dropped, landing on the woman. The mirror edge struck her first, connecting with the top of her skull. The force of the strike cracked her skull and brought her to her knees before rolling away, leaving a sizable dent in the woman’s skull and one less employee in the company.

The pharmacist tried his own version of heroics. After calling 911 and informing the men in the office of an accident at the front of the store, he quickly went to aid the newly fallen woman. His quick steps echoed across the raised floor of the pharmacy and toward the door. He had reached the registers and took a step to exit the pharmacy, lurching forward. His step was cut short by a loose shoelace caught under his own foot that sent him falling off the pharmacy platform and into an adjacent wall. He hit the wall head first and hard, his head twisting at an odd angle with a snap. It was quick compared to the pair at the front of the store and far cleaner than the others but no less painful to watch.

The two men from the back office rushed into the main section of the store, stopping when they came across the pharmacist on the floor.

“So this gets their attention?” Skuld questioned. She frowned with a shake of her head, looking at Urd. “Not the broad laying on the counter in back and not working.”

Verdandi snorted and placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t think they’re paid to care about these people beyond yelling and assuming they’re all thieves.”

“How nice of them. Do they kick puppies and push old ladies down stairways too?” Urd asked coldly.

The thinner man stepped over the fallen pharmacist and strode down the center of the store while his fat companion waddled casually behind him.

The fat man stopped to check the woman taken out by the security mirror, his pinched face reflecting in the blood pooling beneath her head. He struggled to keep his girth steady before waddling past the body on the floor. As he stepped over the woman dismissively, his shoe landed in the blood near her head. When his weight shifted, the blood on his shoe made him slide into a shelving unit. He slammed into the metal shelves and let out a choked groan. The unit swayed violently and he stumbled backward clawing at his throat. His throat was a harsh red color from hitting a shelf that crushed his larynx and his face was becoming the same crimson shade when he fell to his knees. The shelving unit creaked and swayed one last time before tipping to fall on the prone man, crushing him.

Skuld cringed at the sound of bones breaking. “I hate the crunching sounds they make.”

“Very fragile creatures,” Verdandi mumbled.

The thinner man was half way down the center aisle when the dying man in the adjacent one seized violently, sending the ladder into the overstocked shelves. The ladder struck the unit with such force the empty shelving unit behind it lurched forward and made its hanging pegs jingle. The empty wall swayed and tipped, catching the man beneath it. There was no cry of pain or surprise or even a call for help from beneath the heavy metal and particle board unit, just the slowly growing fingers of dark red seeping from beneath the fixture.

Shock and fear spread through the few customers and the remaining pharmacy technician when everything calmed down, the trio surveying the damage. The air hung heavy with the smell of blood and the tinge of burnt flesh, the aisles resembling more of a warzone than a store. Items were scattered around the floor, metal shelves twisted into harsh shapes, and the dingy tiles stained by growing pools of dark blood made for a macabre scene.

“Well, Verdandi, I don’t think there’s anything really left for you to break worth value,” Urd mumbled.

Skuld’s nose wrinkled when she glanced down one aisle and caught sight of the man from the ladder. “Or anyone worthwhile to kill.”

“I do my job well,” Verdandi commented, rocking back and forth on her heels.

Urd glanced around at the mess and the technician standing shocked in the pharmacy. “Maybe we should go. Number four called 911 and in small towns they tend to come quickly.”

“I agree with Urd. We should leave,” Skuld chimed in nervously. “I don’t want to deal with anymore police.”

Verdandi gave a shrug and began walking toward the exit. “Fine by me. I wanna take a nap anyway.”

Urd and Skuld watched their middle sister walk down one of the clear aisles, both women remaining silent until she was gone.

“A nap? She wipes out half a dozen people and all she can think about is a nap?” Skuld marveled.

Urd frowned and began the slow walk toward the exit. “We both know how she is. Nothing is going to change that.” She could hear the scared weeping of a customer in one of the rear aisles. “Come on, Skuld. We have work to do back at the house.”

Skuld followed quietly behind her to the exit, avoiding the gruesome scene in the candy aisle as she passed.

~*~

Dean studied the small town map carefully as he sat behind the wheel of the Impala, tapping his fingers absently against the top of the steering wheel.

His search for the sisters so far seemed like a fruitless endeavor. He had no idea where to start looking for them when he got into town or even where they could have been sent. It wasn’t like he could predict what was going through Kim’s mind and just who she’d kill, not that he’d really want to. He couldn’t very well drive around without chancing Kim seeing him so he headed to the library to try figuring out where the three could have gone.

He tossed the town map into the passenger seat and put his head against the headrest. “This is getting me nowhere.” He stared at the car roof for a couple seconds before his eyes narrowed in thought. “I wonder if we can microchip them.”

He laughed at the thought of microchipping the goddesses and quickly dismissed it. There was no way those three would let anyone even come close to them after all this mess and he wouldn’t blame them. But he had to admit that maybe it would help him in this situation.

Dean sat up and grabbed the map once more, frowning at the piece of paper. “How can it be so hard to find them in a town this small?”

He went back to studying the map as he sat in the parking lot of the local diner. His eyes scanned the printed paper and the notes jotted down in the margins, a handful of red X’s marking the printout. After today there would be more notes added to the map’s chaotic timeline of events. He hated that fact; that they were no closer to truly freeing the trio from Kim’s grasp even with having the book.

His study of the map ended with the ringing of his cell phone. A quick glance at the number and a brush of his thumb against the buttons made Sam’s voice fill the car. “Yeah, Sammy?”

“Have you found them yet?” Sam questioned.

Dean returned to the map in hand with a heavy sigh. “Not yet. I haven’t gotten any clues about where they are.”

Dean could hear papers rustle over the phone line. “I haven’t heard anything on the police scanner yet.”

“How’s the translation going?” Dean asked, glancing down the street.

“Slow.” Sam had a tired edge to his voice. “I can see why Skuld needed a break. This book makes your head swim even after only a few minutes/”

Dean put the map down staring out the windshield. “So asking if you found anything wouldn’t be wise, huh?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Sam replied.

Dean chuckled, watching the diner door open and a stocky man come out.

It would be a lot easier if I had one of the sisters here. Ancient Norse is not my forte,” Sam admitted.

Dean relaxed against the seat with a groan. “I don’t think it’s theirs either.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking, Dean, about something Skuld said. She said they would have to restore balance.” Sam paused and Dean heard a pen hit the table. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Dean watched the main street in front of him with a bored look. “How bad can it be? They’re just Fates.”

“They’re not just Fates, Dean. That’s just one of their names; the most common name of the bunch,” Sam explained.

“I remember the whole Norn, Parcea, and Moirai thing.” Dean grinned at the sight of a squirrel bouncing up and down on a flimsy looking branch. “How many more names do they have?”

“More than you’d think. When we finally knew what they were, I did some more digging; just to get a feel on who we were dealing with. They’re called the Three Graces when they are kind,” Sam stated.

“So the sarcasm and attitude is being kind? That’s a weird definition,” Dean mumbled.

Sam huffed over the line but for the most part ignored Dean’s comment. “When they are angry they’re called Furies, spirits of justice and vengeance. Once those collars are off and they regain their full power, they could wipe this town off the map if they wanted.”

“I can see how that could be a problem.” Dean frowned and straightened in his seat. “But do you really think they’d do it?”

Sam was silent on the other end for a moment, the pause making Dean uncomfortable. When he finally spoke the tone of his voice was serious. “You’ve been around them as long as I have, Dean. Would you really put it past them?”

In all honesty, Dean wouldn’t put it past the women to wipe out the town on principle alone. At present the three were dangerous to cross, the collars cutting their powers in half. Once they were free of Kim’s control there was no telling what they’d do.

He was just about to give Sam his answer when he heard the scanner on Sam’s end burst to life. He strained to make out the tinny and garbled sounding voice but could only catch a word or two from the static. His unasked question to his brother about what type of call it was found an answer in an ambulance speeding past, lights blazing and siren blaring.

“Dean,” Sam began.

“I know. An ambulance just sped past.” Dean turned the key and the Impala roared to life. “I’m following right behind it.”

“It sounds big, Dean. More than one body. Local police are responding too,” Sam informed. “It’s the local pharmacy.”

Dean put the Impala in drive and pulled from the parking lot, following the sirens and lights ahead. “Hopefully they haven’t left.”

~*~

Sam had been right about the call sounding big, judging from the amount of ambulances and police the town’s entire Emergency Services turned up.

Three police cars and a cordon of bright yellow tape running from side mirror to side mirror blocked off the parking lot in front of the pharmacy.

From where Dean sat in the Impala he could see at least five people talking with the local police or being treated for shock by paramedics. The pharmacy doors stood open but he couldn’t see anyone walking around inside and silently cursed the building designer for the lack of windows. Scanning the crowd of faces that had gathered to gawk, as people often do, he couldn’t see any one of the trio.

“Where are they?” Dean watched a crime scene officer from a nearby police van head inside. “And what the hell did they do?”

The tape was untied and dropped for a coroner van to approach, the officers at the door directing it back toward the door.

Dean could see the coroner and the assistant grab a gurney and a couple black bags before going inside. “Well two isn’t bad.”

There was a subtle knock on the trunk that startled him out of his observation, three small faces appearing in the rear window.

Shock turned to annoyance as the three little girls walked around the car and climbed into the backseat. “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for ten minutes.”

“We had to lay low for a bit so we hid on the roof until we saw your car,” Skuld answered, crawling across the backseat.

“We couldn’t stand outside the store and wait for the cops to come like nothing happened. That would just be creepy,” Verdandi added.

“Because you aren’t creepy enough to begin with,” Dean muttered.

Skuld crawled to the far side of the backseat and sat down behind Dean with Urd taking a seat next to her. Verdandi was the last into the backseat, closing the door behind her. They sat side by side; three girls in school uniforms looking innocently at Dean as though nothing was wrong.

“We can’t help it. Our disguises are limited right now,” Urd mumbled.

Dean shook his head and looked back at the pharmacy. “So she had you kill two this time?”

“Six,” Skuld answered.

“Six?” Dean sputtered, turning around.

“Electrocution, crushing, impalement; just a normal day,” Verdandi grinned.

Dean pursed his lips and turned back to the steering wheel, taking a deep calming breath. “Yeah. Not creepy at all.”

The Impala’s engine purred when he turned the key, the girls settling down against the leather seat. He quickly glanced in the rearview mirror at the triplets and pulled from the parking lot just as a second coroner van turned a nearby corner.

~*~

Sam was still working on translations when he heard the Impala pull into the garage, putting the book aside for a moment.

He had listened to the police scanner as the chaos at the pharmacy played out on the police frequency. The 911 dispatch that started it all had sounded calm at first, the dispatcher calling for an ambulance and a single patrol car. It wasn’t until the responding officer called for a coroner van and two more patrol cars that it got hectic. The officer was reporting at least five survivors, all pretty much in shock, and four bodies that he could see. A couple minutes later and four bodies had become six.

He pushed himself away from the table and headed for the kitchen, hearing Dean pulling into the garage. Sam wandered into the rear mudroom and through the door to the garage, standing on the steps while Dean shut the car off. A quick glance into the backseat at the three small heads seated there made him feel a little better.

“I see you made it back in one piece,” Sam commented.

Dean nodded, the girls climbing out of the backseat. “They got the urge to kill out of their systems.” He twirled his keys around his index finger before shoving them in his pocket. “And I think Verdandi is too tired to carjack me.”

Verdandi trudged around the hood of the car, the little girl growing into a young woman as she walked. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.”

Sam moved aside and let Verdandi pass.

Skuld jumped from the backseat with Urd stepping out behind her, both changing just as fast as Verdandi had.

“You left a mess behind according to the police scanner,” Sam said evenly.

Urd brought a hand to her head, pressing her fingers against her temple. “We left a dent in pharmacy employees is what we did.”

“What have you been up to, Sam?” Skuld asked cheerfully.

“I managed a couple pages of translations while you were gone. I figured you might like the help.” Sam gave the woman a kind smile and stepped back to let her up the stairs. “Took a minute or two to figure out your shorthand but I got it.”

Skuld grinned and raised an eyebrow, stopping on the stairs. “You survived pages of ancient Norse? I’m impressed. Handsome and intelligent is a good combination on you.”

Dean stared at the white-haired woman flirting with his brother incredulously.

“I’ll take over translations since I’m back. After my day, translation would be a vacation.” She climbed the stairs, waving over her shoulder at him. “Feel free to come help me if you want.”

“Why do you get flirted with and I get the carjacking threats?” Dean questioned.

“Because they like me,” Sam offered with a shrug.

Urd rubbed at her temples, sighing deeply. “Skuld likes intelligent men.” Her hands dropped to her side, blinking at the headache pressing at her forehead. “And you impressed her.”

Dean snorted and gave his brother a once over. “Impress the leather one, will ya?”

Sam chuckled, glancing toward Urd. “Are you okay?”

The goddess nodded and walked for the stairs. “Just have a headache.”

The brothers could hear a tired tone in her voice, Sam clearing his throat. “What happened in there?”

Urd stopped with one foot on the stairs. “A blood bath.”

“Six bodies at once isn’t her normal order, is it?” Dean asked.

She shook her head but didn’t turn when she spoke. “Usually she wants one, maybe two at most. This was the first time she’s asked for a larger group all at once.”

“That’s not exactly a good sign,” Dean frowned, exchanging a concerned look with Sam. “Now that she knows she can take out a small group what’s to stop her from going after a larger one?”

“Nothing.” Urd climbed the stairs and stopped on the top landing, turning back to address the brothers. “Now that she knows larger numbers are no problem, it’s in all likelihood she’ll target more groups.”

Sam nodded his agreement. “That’s what came to my mind too.”

“It’s been my experience that once someone gets a taste of power, they lose what self-control and morality they have. Right and wrong goes out the window and the only thing that matters is keeping what little power they have,” she added calmly. “Kim is no different than others before her. And with her new knowledge, she’s going to rival some of the worst.”

Sam and Dean followed as she walked into the kitchen, the door banging shut behind them.

“She’ll add more names to her list and go through them fast; nothing will stop her short of freeing us or death.” Urd had a seat at the kitchen table and leveled a stern look at the men. “And I know which one of those my sisters and I would prefer.”

Dean cleared his throat, the cold gleam in her eyes making him uneasy. “How about we focus on the freeing and not the killing?”

The woman gave a little huff, her head cocking slightly to the right. “You are clear on just what my sisters and I do at this point, right? We don’t need to cover that whole part again, do we?”

“Got it the first time,” Dean answered.

Sam leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the young woman quietly.

“Good, I don’t want to go over it again,” Urd murmured, resting her head on the table. “I’m too tired.”

“I’ve been wondering something, Urd,” Sam began, finally speaking up.

The blonde didn’t raise her head but shifted her gaze to Sam. “Wondering what?”

“Skuld had said you three would have to restore balance.” He watched for any expression change in the woman but saw nothing but exhaustion in the blue eyes. “What did she mean?”

She straightened and pushed herself away from the table. “Why are you asking, Sam?” She rounded the table and approached him, staring up at him quizzically. “Are you worried about something?”

Sam swallowed as she closed the distance, pushing down the nervous feeling in his stomach.

“You are, aren’t you?” She studied his face, eyes narrowing. Her attention turned to Dean with that same studious look before shifting back to Sam. “You both are.”

Sam could feel the fluttery feeling in his stomach push its way back to the surface, his mouth going dry. “It’s just Dean and I were curious.”

“About terminology? Somehow I don’t believe that.” Her voice was kind when she looked at the taller man, her hands resting on her hips. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s going through your head or do I get to pick your brain in my own special way?” Urd brought a darkly polished finger up to poke Sam in the chest. “And the last person I did that to took a cast iron pan to the head.”

Sam could easily see the blonde, cast iron cookware in hand, standing above his sprawled body with her free hand clutching his life thread.

“Now I’m giving you a choice; a very simple choice,” Urd said calmly.

Dean gave his brother a nod and a shrug. “I think I’d talk instead of taking the pan to the head.”

“Smart man.” Urd kept her eyes locked on Sam. “So what’s really on your mind besides terminology?”

“How powerful are you three? With the collars off, what can you do?” Sam questioned.

Urd turned away with a small laugh. “Of course. You hear about restoring the balance and a part of you, the always on the job hunter part of you, thinks the worst.” She hopped up on the table and kicked her dangling feet. “So what is this horrible scenario you’ve thought up?”

Dean was the one to speak up through a little reluctantly. “Could you three destroy an entire town?”

“Without these collars, we could easily do that.” The answer was short and sweet with no hesitation, Urd regarding Dean with an almost bored expression. “But really there is no reason to.”

Dean gave her an odd look.

“Why would we want to wipe out a whole town just because of the homicidal actions of one person? Do you really think we’re that vindictive?” the goddess questioned.

Sam shook his head. “We didn’t mean any offence.”

Urd slid off the table and dusted the seat of her pants out of habit. “We do have plans for once these collars are gone but it has nothing to do with wiping out this little town.”

“The town won’t see the wrath of the Furies,” Dean muttered, glancing toward Sam.

Urd paused and a look of surprise washed over her features. “What did you say?”

“When I was researching you, when started helping you, I came across your other names; not just the Greek, Roman, and Norse,” Sam explained. “The Three Graces and the Furies.”

Urd shook her head and slowly headed for the kitchen door. “We haven’t been called those in a while.” The floor beneath her feet creaked near the door when she stopped and turned back to the brothers. “You needn’t worry about the town; a small baby boom won’t do any damage.”

Sam and Dean watched her exit, neither saying anything for a moment.

“So the town sees the Three Graces,” Sam finally commented.

Dean gave a small nod and crossed the kitchen toward the mini fridge. “And I’m pretty sure at least one person is going to see the Furies, knowing those three.”


	26. Chapter 26

Dean watched the pair in the yard from the living room window with a confused frown, his arms resting on the table.

Since arriving back at the house the trio had gone about their own business as soon as they walked inside. Skuld had thrown herself into translating Kim’s book and rarely looked up from the pages. She didn’t even look up with Dean had taken a seat at the table with one of the duffle bags and brought out a couple guns to clean. Verdandi had retreated upstairs for a brief moment with the temporary cell phone only to come running back down and disappearing outside. As for Urd, the blonde had gone upstairs and hadn’t reappeared for at least an hour, finally coming down and casually walking outside.

Dean now sat watching the pair through the dirty window, the guns he had been cleaning all but forgotten.

He wasn’t sure that was going on as the women stood talking, Urd poking at the dirt beneath one of the larger trees on the property. He caught himself wondering if it was some totally random way to keep her occupied while Verdandi talked. It wasn’t until she knelt down and started digging that he wondered if she finally had enough and was being serious on her many threats to bury the black-haired woman. He really wouldn’t blame her if she did snap; he wanted to kill the younger woman many times.  
He looked back down at the guns in front of him and returned to cleaning, Skuld scribbling out a translation across from him.

“You tear down and clean those guns rather easily,” Skuld muttered as she wrote. She flipped her page over and continued to write, resting her hand against her cheek. “And considering you’re the one who shot Urd, I find that a little unsettling.”

Dean stopped and stared at the woman writing across from him. “You haven’t looked up once since I sat down.”

“So? Just because I don’t look up doesn’t mean I’m not noticing things.” Her hand stopped its scribbling and she finally looked up at him with a smile. “I just choose not to draw attention by looking up.”

“You’re weird,” Dean commented.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped. She leaned back and stretched, resting her hands over her stomach. “I’ve heard that more times than I care to count.”

“I’m sure you have,” he answered evenly.

Skuld smiled and began to gather up her papers. “It comes out rather frequently from Verdandi but I usually just ignore her.”

Dean cleared his throat and gave a nod towards the window. “Speaking of, looks like Urd if thinking of planting your annoying sister.”

She glanced up from her papers and toward the window, a look of confusion darkening her features as she stood. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dean gave the woman an odd look as he remained at the table. “She’s buried Verdandi?”

“A couple times. It was a kind of time out thing.” Skuld crossed to the window to look out, watching her sisters in the yard. “Never for very long though; a couple days at most.” She pursed her lips and gave a small shrug, crossing her arms. “She really hasn’t done it lately though, not since we settled in separate areas.”

He turned in his seat as the goddess continued watching her siblings through the dirty glass. “She’s literally buried Verdandi?”

“Like I said, it was a time out.” She turned away from the window with a dismissive wave and a huff. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. It just looks like they’re talking over part of an idea. That’s all.”

Dean’s features darkened at the mention of an idea. He still hurt from the last idea the sisters had and he was sure Sam was still as sore as he was. The bandages still on his back were more than enough reason to be wary when any of them said anything about ideas.

“So there won’t be any more big plans to run us down with another truck?” he asked casually.

The goddess snorted and took her seat. “Of course not. Once is enough.”

Dean could only shake his head at the almost cheerful answer to his question, covering his face with his hand.

Skuld returned to Kim’s book while the sound of footsteps echoed on the floor above them. “If we bounce you off too many cars we could end up killing you.”

Dean’s head dropped to the table with a frustrated groan.

The floor creaked when Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, his footfalls heavy when he descended into the living room.

“I wouldn’t worry at any rate. You’re totally safe,” Skuld assured.

Sam joined the pair at the table with a couple books of his own, his gaze shifting between the pair. “Should I ask?”

“Dean thinks we’re going to hit you two with another car,” the goddess informed, returning to her work. “All because Verdandi and Urd are talking outside.”

Sam looked across the table at his brother, sighing heavily. “Paranoid much?”

Dean grumbled and went back to cleaning the guns in from of him.

“So what brings you down from your improvised library?” Skuld paused just long enough to get a look at Sam’s reading choices. “Do we get story time?”

“Maybe.” Sam opened his first book and flipped to a marked page. “Have you found the spell yet?”

“All I’ve found is blood use by the gallons and a questionable and a disturbing love of goats in the very early pages. So far at least.” She fanned the remaining pages with her thumb absently. “But I’m far enough into this that I should be getting close to it.”

Dean assembled the gun in front of him, laying the .45 gently on the marred table. “You find something, Sammy?”

“While I was doing the translating earlier, I got to thinking about some of our previous hunts,” Sam began. He let his gaze move from Dean to Skuld and back, pushing the open book toward his brother. “Especially one in particular.”

A sour expression crossed Dean’s face while he read, shaking his head. “Not my favorite one.”

Skuld said nothing but watched Dean pushed the book back across the table.

“It has some similarities,” Sam explained, tapping a finger against the open page.

“Thankfully not the religious nut angle,” Dean muttered.

The goddess folded her hands over Kim’s open book, pursing her lips briefly. “Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?”

Sam handed his book to the young woman. “We ran into a faith healer in Nebraska a while back who was performing miracle healings tent-revival style. He’d heal a person but another in the area would die from the healed person’s illness.”

She read over the pages, stopping to shift her gaze on Sam. “Reapers?”

“Yeah,” Dean added. There was a hint of anger in his voice when he spoke his tone clipped. “Courtesy of his wife.”

“The reverend’s wife came across an old book written by a priest dabbling in dark magic. She captured the reaper to save her husband from cancer at first,” Sam explained.

Skuld frowned and pushed the book away. “I hate reapers. Damn things follow us around from time to time like rats looking for scraps of food.” She huffed and sat back in her chair. “Bottom feeding vermin.”

Dean smirked at the little outburst. “Tell us how you really feel about them.”

“As I was saying,” Sam interrupted calmly. “The wife captured the reaper to save her husband but never released it. Then she began using it to punish people she saw as wicked, trading their lives for the lives of someone worthy.”

“And all under the guise of her husband being a miracle healer with a gift from God,” Dean added.

Skuld snorted and sat back in her chair. “How lovely.” She has a disgusted expression coloring her features as she took a stern tone with the pair. “More damage has been done in this world by humans playing god than by the actual deities. And it is beyond annoying to watch.” She let out an aggravated huff and threw her hands up in frustration. “But you keep doing it because you stupidly think it’s what your various gods want.”

Dean nodded slowly, waiting until Skuld had finished her rant before speaking. “And that’s exactly what the reverend’s wife believed.”

“Stupid human,” Skuld grumbled.

“At any rate we were able to free the reaper,” Sam concluded.

“Who then killed the reverend’s wife,” Dean added.

Skuld sat back and examined the pair. “And this can help us?”

Sam gave a thoughtful nod and collected his book. “Once we figure what spell Kim used to lock you three here, we could try freeing you the way the reaper was freed.”

“How was that?” the young woman questioned.

Dean cleared his throat and gave the goddess an absent shrug. “Well, Sam knocked over her altar and destroyed the talisman she carried.”

A coy smile tugged at the edges of her mouth, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “And what were you doing?”

He sighed heavily and studied the table for a moment before answering rather flatly. “I was nearly killed by the reaper.”

The coy smile grew and she let out an amused chuckle. “Hunting is fun, isn’t it?”

The comment got an eye roll from the older man sitting beside her. “You’re almost as bad as Verdandi.”

Skuld wagged an index finger at him, leaning against the table. “Now now, Dean. Those are fighting words.”

Sam opened his second book and flipped through the pages. “I also found some others we can try if that doesn’t work.”

“You’re very thorough. Impressive,” Skuld commented.

Dean’s attention waivered from the spell breaking talk as Urd crossed the yard to the front porch alone. “Plus we have Urd’s spells.”

Skuld returned to Kim’s book, grabbing her pen as the front door opened. “She does tend to know what she’s doing; book or no. She knows more spells than you humans have written down.”

The old floorboards groaned a protest in the foyer when Urd entered and made her way into the living room.

“And that’s not counting her private library,” Skuld added.

Urd stopped beside her sister’s chair and peeked over the younger woman’s shoulder, a soft clicking following her. “What about a private library?”

Skuld continued to work on the book in front of her. “We were just talking about your spell knowledge.”

“Ah. My private library,” the older woman said with a nod. She looked down at her right hand and the pair of rocks she rolled in her palm. “Not sure why that would come up.”

“Spell breaking,” Sam spoke up.

Urd nodded and held up a streaked pale yellow stone, examining the surface briefly. “Speaking of spells, I need your hands, boys.”

Sam and Dean watched the blonde run her thumb across the face of each stone before turning to the younger man.

Urd held out a hand to him and placed one of the stones on the table, smiling at Sam. “I promise it’s not something dangerous.”

Sam placed his hand in hers with his palm up. “Should I ask what you’re doing?”

“Probably not.” She placed one of the stones in his up turned palm, tracing a fingertip across the palm’s center. “Just have a little faith that I know what I’m doing.”

Sam caught a subtle blue glow in the woman’s eyes as her fingertip crossed his palm followed by a burning sensation. He cringed and tried to pull his hand back but her grip kept him in place. He looked down at his still burning palm and saw the deep crimson colored cut running the width of his hand.

“What are you doing to him?” Dean demanded.

“The same thing I’ll be doing to you in a minute. Now hush.” Urd moved the stone until it covered Sam’s cut and closed his hand around it. Her own hands wrapped around the closed fist and she caught the younger man’s gaze once more. “You’ll be better in a minute.”

The stone in Sam’s palm grew warm as the stinging subsided and eventually disappeared, the stone’s warmth lingering for a moment before fading.

Urd took her hands away and stepped back. “See? All done and you still have your hand.”

“What was that for?” Sam questioned. He examined his palm and turned his attention to the blonde beside the table. “There’s no cut.”

“Of course there’s no cut left. I actually know what I’m doing.” Urd grabbed the second stone from the table and walked around to Dean, pointing to the one in Sam’s hand. “Keep that on you at all times. It will keep you hidden around town.”

Sam studied the stone in his hand, holding it up to the light. “Is this quartz?”

“Yes, rutilated quartz. It increases the effects of magics and makes excellent talismans when used properly.” Urd looked down at Dean and offered her hand as she had to Sam. “Your turn.”

Dean shot Sam a questioning look before holding out his hand. “So these will keep us hidden?”

“You two are supposed to be dead. How can you be dead if people keep seeing you around town?” Urd placed the stone in Dean’s palm and traced her finger along the warm skin. “These will make sure no one sees the real you.”

“So it’s like a glamour spell?” Sam asked.“Yes but unlike the New Age spells in books now-a-days, this one actually works.” Urd swiped her finger across Dean’s palm, rolling her eyes at his pained yelp. “Oh please. This isn’t as bad as being hit by a truck.”

Dean glared as she placed the stone over his bleeding palm and closed his fingers around it. “What is with you inflicting pain on us? It’s like you enjoy it.”

“Oh damn, you found me out.” She clamped her hands over Dean’s fist hard before locking eyes with him, a stern look of annoyance in the glowing blue orbs. “I could do this so much quicker if you’d shut up.”

Skuld chuckled at her sister’s comment but continued her work. “Just be thankful she’s doing this and not Verdandi.”

Dean made a show of flexing his hand when Urd finally let go of him, examining his healed palm. “Where is the leather-clad car thief anyway?”

“Getting you a new car,” Urd answered as she straightened.

Dean sputtered indignantly and looked up at the blonde. “What do you mean getting us a new car?”

“You’re the one with the very noticeable vehicle. I mean how many FBI agents do you know that drive a ’67 Impala on the job?” Urd rested her hands on her hips and stared Dean down as he glared. “I don’t think people are going to believe you’re dead seeing you driving around in that car.”

“They could be zombies,” Skuld offered.

Urd shot the younger woman an odd look. “Zombies?”

“Hey, we’re in the country. There’s no telling what people here believe,” Skuld explained.

“Something tells me zombie isn’t much of a belief,” Urd sighed.

Skuld shrugged and returned to her work. “Never know.”

“So as I was saying, to keep you hidden in plain sight the spell on those stones will change your appearance to the townspeople. The car Verdandi id getting will be less conspicuous than your Impala.” The blonde walked from the table to the couch, having a seat. “Just until this gets sorted out.”

“What is she getting us?” Sam asked innocently.

“She didn’t say. She only mentioned she found you a car,” Urd replied flatly.

Dean tucked the stone in his pocket and gathered p the guns he had been cleaning. “I’m scared to see what she got us.”

“As long as it runs, I wouldn’t be too picky,” Skuld offered.

Dean hefted the duffle bag up to his shoulder with a groan that made both women watch him.

“If you’re pushing yourself to heal, it’s not going to work,” Urd muttered.

“I’m fine.” Dean crossed the living room, and headed upstairs. “Call me when Verdandi brings the car.”

Urd settled back against the couch while Skuld frowned, the floor above creaking as Dean moved. “Stubborn fool.”

“It’s like dealing with a child,” the younger goddess added. “Only worse.”

~*~

The house had fallen quiet by nightfall, each of them going their own way as the night went on.

After Verdandi returned to the property with the “new” car, things had grown tense. The beat-up station wagon hadn’t been well received by Dean and the bickering exchange that followed between the hunter and the goddess had gotten on the other’s nerves. Eventually the pair broke off the argument and tensions eased.

By the time Sam turned in, the squabble had all but been forgotten.

The living room took on a warm glow when the last rays of sunlight gave way to the soft flicker of candles positioned around the room. The shadows in the far corners of the room held firm, pressing against the faded borders of light in a muted battle. The glittering flames reflected in the window glass as tiny orange-yellow teardrops atop pillars of white, the images floating on a darkening navy backdrop.

Skuld continued her work on translating while Urd sat silently in one of the darkened corners, hands folded in her lap gingerly and head bowed. Neither spoke as the muted sounds of the night wafted through the open window and mixed with the occasional groan or knock of the house settling. From time to time the chorus of crickets and various nocturnal animals was punctuated by the rustle of turning pages and long suffering sighs.

She rolled her neck with a pop as she turned yet another page and began to read. “This is just an unending nightmare.”

“Hmm?” The questioning sound was the only indication the blonde was awake in the corner.

“Translating this.” Skuld thumped the book and glanced over her shoulder toward her sister. “I swear the pages keep multiplying.”

“It’s a book,” Urd muttered, the words echoing oddly.

The younger woman sneered at the pages and picked up a blank sheet of paper. “It’s an annoyance.”

Urd took a deep breath and the house groaned when she let it out.

“My only consolation is once we’re done with it, I won’t have to see it again,” Skuld mumbled. She put her head down on the table and propped the book up to read. “If you burn it, can I throw the match?”

Urd chuckled and the sound echoed around the room, the wood around them creaking.

“And I’ll be glad to get out of this house,” the younger woman added. “Back to civilization.”

The house went silent and Urd finally moved, stretching. “You act like this is another century or something.”

“Very close,” Skuld grumbled.

“It’s an old house that, while still livable, has fallen into disrepair.” Urd got to her feet and dusted the seat of her jeans off. “I shouldn’t have to tell you about old houses.”  
Skuld twirled her pen in her fingers, motioning to the walls around them. “I’ve been in plenty in my time but none of them sounded like they’d fall down when any of us flexed any amount of power.”

The older woman let her gaze travel to the walls around them while her sister continued to grumble.

“You get centered and right with what little bits of the world you’re still connected to and the moment you breath deep, the house starts groaning.” The snort Skuld let out as she began to write sounded louder than she had wanted, clearing her throat slightly. “If that’s what I’d does for a little relaxation on your part, I’d hate to see what would happen if Verdandi blew up.”

The blonde watched the ceiling above as she clenched a fist, frowning at the creak of the boards in response. “Maybe it’s in worse shape than I thought.”

“A forgotten house in the country? What could possibly be the odds of that?” the younger woman commented.

Urd’s hand dropped to her side with an annoyed sigh.

“That or no one took into account that three goddesses and two humans would be using it as a hide-out when they built it,” she continued.

Urd replied to the remark with an eye roll and disappeared into the hallway. “You’re sounding like Verdandi.”

Skuld froze, shooting the retreating figure a murderous glare.

“Just thought you should know.” The words sing-songed down the darkened corridor with the sound of Urd’s footsteps on the worn wood. “Dear sister.”

Skuld glared after the blonde a moment longer before turning back to her papers. “I am not turning into Verdandi.”

She returned to her work, pushing back the annoyance she felt as she threw herself into translating.

Once more the nighttime noises filtered back into the room. Cricket songs and random animal chatter joined the soft shuffle of papers from the table. The settling creaks and groans of the house lessened and it became oddly peaceful, Skuld studying Kim’s book in peace.

She scanned the symbols and jotted down her notes almost absently before stopping to read the results.

The words looked foreign at first, the runes she had been reading for hours more recognizable than the alphabet in front of her. Her eyes shut tight then opened to settled back on the page of now legible writing. Her finger followed the neatly scrawled lines of text that filled the notebook paper as she pushed the last bits of rune translation to the back of her mind.

Skuld had been working on the book for so long that it had become commonplace for the newly translated pages to amount to nothing. It had become so common that the young goddess had stopped becoming hopeful of finding anything helpful at all. This would just be one more useless page to add to the ever growing pile before her.  
With an exhausted huff she began to read, resting her chin against her hand.

This translation seemed to be as big of a time waster as the other pages had been. The wording was the same harsh Northern dialect she and her sisters had been so familiar with centuries ago explaining the ritual in detail. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Gerda, clad in rough woven clothes and animal furs, performing the steps; invoking the names of Norse deities who wanted nothing to do with her beneath and aurora borealis sky.

She stopped halfway through the page’s first paragraph and stared at the words in surprised silence. Her gaze darted back to the book she had translated, glancing at the original page before scooping it up with the translation and quickly getting to her feet. “Sister.”

Skuld practically darted down the hallway towards the kitchen and the dim light appearing around the door, the book and pages clutched tight to her chest. She shouldered her way past the swinging door and tossed the items on the table with a triumphant grin.

Urd looked up from the tiny fridge, pushing the door shut with a sigh. “I think Verdandi ate the leftover pizza from last night.”

“I found it,” Skuld announced.

The blonde remained silent and moved toward the dining table.

“That drawing earlier was her first attempt at trying to harness a supernatural creature. She first tried it on forest spirits," Skuld informed.

“How nice that she got some practice before giving us these lovely necklaces.” Urd slowly read over the translation, having a seat at the table. “This is dark. Even for someone as twisted as Gerda was.”

“She is very detailed in her instructions and what tools to use: especially about the collars and how to forge them. She even goes as far as to say the exact lunar phase to perform all this.” Skuld rested her palms on the tabletop with an anxious glimmer in her eyes. “So can we use this?”

The reply was a slow nod as the blonde read quietly.

Skuld bowed her head and breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally.”

“We can absolutely use this,” Urd added. She got up and rounded the table, taking the younger woman by the shoulders to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You darling, intelligent girl.”

“I should translate more often if that’s your reaction,” Skuld laughed, watching the blonde gather up her papers. “Think you could tell our loving sister that whole intelligent part. Maybe she’ll stop the abuse.”

“That is never going to stop and we both know it,” Urd muttered.

The younger woman frowned and crossed her arms over her chest like a pouting child.

“Oh stop it.” Urd held the books and papers close and gave Skuld a stern look. “As long as we’re here, you’ll both be going after each other.” She turned for the door with Skuld right behind her. “That is reason enough to break these collars and go our own ways again.”

Skuld followed her sister back to the warmly lit living room, shoving her hands in her pockets. “One would think you didn’t like us much with that comment.”

“You’re my sisters; I tolerate you both.” Urd crossed the living room to Skuld’s vacated table, looking over the remaining papers. “I can only take small doses of both of you together and I’m well past my limit.” She set the papers in her arms down and glanced over her shoulder. “Why do you think she lives two thousand miles away?”

“For privacy?” Skuld offered.

“For my sanity.” Urd took a cheap looking notebook from a pile of Sam’s books at the back of the table, flipping through the pages. “The only way to keep it is to keep a great distance away from at least one of you.”

The younger woman remained silent, watching her sister pull a bundle of yellow papers from the notebook.

“You are the lesser of two evils, Skuld, which is a good thing.” The blonde flattened the bundle on the table, spreading the pages out. “But even with that said, I will be taking a long vacation from both of you once this is over.”

Skuld gave a nod of understanding, examining the papers. “Paris is nice this time of year.”

“I was thinking British Isles myself; perhaps check on some of the children while I’m there.” The blonde straightened and grabbed Skuld’s translations. “I’m more relaxed there.”

A slender hand reached for the nearest yellowed page, Skuld shaking her head.

“But first there is the matter of getting out of these damned rings,” Urd mumbled.

“You were busy already.” Skuld read through the page she held before turning to her sister. “Not a bad start at least.”

Urd had a seat and let her gaze travel over the assembled materials. “Not it’s just finding the correct spell or ritual to counter Kim’s.”

The paper rustled softly when Skuld replaced it on the table. “Any idea how long that will take?”

“Too long for my liking.” The blonde tapped her index finger against her left temple with a heavy sigh. “I don’t have my books to fall back on so I’ve got to go by memory.”

Skuld’s jaw clenched as she stifled a yawn. “That shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

The snort Urd let out was louder than she had intended as she rested her chin on her hand. “You have so much misplaced faith in me its adorable.”

Skuld stretched and heard her shoulder pop in the process. “With all that knowledge in your head it shouldn’t be too difficult. Right?”

“Would you like to try it yourself?” Urd gave her sister a tiny smile, waving a hand over the assembled papers. “I’m pretty sure you’ll change your tone once you so. The humans have been very prolific with spell crafting over the centuries and there are more than a few to sort through.”

“I think I’ll just leave that to you,” Skuld coughed, her gaze shifting over the table. “I’m good with leaving you to it.”

Urd cocked her eyebrow and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m more than happy to share.”

“I’m good,” the younger woman answered quickly.

Urd grabbed the unused notebook pages and a pen, sitting back in her chair. “Go get some sleep. You’ve done enough.”

“Sleep is good.” A tiny smile pulled at the corners of the white-haired woman‘s mouth as she walked for the stairs. “You should get some sleep too.”

The blonde remained seated at the table, jotting down a couple notes. “I will eventually.”

The stairs creaked when Skuld climbed them, the living room falling still once more. Night sounds filled the air and the candles flickered with the occasional soft breeze coming through the open windows. Again the soft rustle of paper punctuated the calming sounds of the nighttime world as the lone figure occupying the table worked.


End file.
